


For All Our Days

by tm_writes



Series: A Vow Fulfilled [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, How much can they fix? Do they make it worse?, Leaving canon behind, Not sure how long I can go, Rewriting what I want, Time Travel, Totally off canon, here for Queen Sansa, king jaime, suspend your disbelief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2020-10-04 23:21:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 130,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20479136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tm_writes/pseuds/tm_writes
Summary: Please read my original story, A Vow Fulfilled up until Chapter 14 to get an idea of the already established Jaime/Sansa relationship and the season 8 rewrite.At the defeat of the Night King, Jaime and Sansa are sent back in time to Kings Landing, right before Tywin tries to marry Sansa to Tyrion. In love and already married, older and wiser and with all their past knowledge, Jaime and Sansa immediately come together, eager to see what they can change and if they can alter the future.Part 1 will deal with those in the south: Joffrey, the Tyrell's, the war of the 5 KingsPart 2 will deal with the North, the White Walkers, Stannis and Daenerys





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Jaime is 42, Sansa is 22. They are EXACTLY who they are in my other story- just back in time. No one else notices, so suspend your disbelief and go with it.

One moment Jaime was battling another wight, swinging his sword and praying to whatever god that was listening that he'd be able to hold them at bay, denying them entry to the Great Hall where his wife was.

The next moment there was a flash of light, and everything Jaime knew, vanished.

When Jaime shook his head, he almost felt ill – both dizzy and nauseous.

He looked around and was sitting in the small council room, with his father, Tyrion and his sister at the table as well. He was in the south, in King’s Landings, the surroundings familiar and horrible in their implications.

If he was south, then where was his wife? Jaime searched the room, frantic in his need to get to his wife, to get to Sansa.

_What in seven fucking hells had happened?_ Jaime thought, thoroughly bewildered.

He looked down to see himself in the same clothes he'd been wearing at Winterfell; only he was clean. He reached up, and his hair was the same as it had been moments ago, along with his hand, including the golden one he hated.

Jaime began to suspect that something horrible and very wrong had happened.

He wracked his brain to try to think where he had been at this time. He'd already lost his hand, that much was apparent, and he was just about to enter Harrenhal as a prisoner of the Bolton’s with Lady Brienne.

He forced himself to think, to listen to what his father was saying.

"It is past time my children did their duty to their house. You will all be wed."

Jaime knew that in his previous life, he hadn’t made it back to King’s Landing until well after Sansa and Tyrion had been wed. Somehow, he was here before that had occurred.

His sister was enraged, yelling that she wouldn't marry someone of her father’s choosing again, that she wasn't a broodmare. Her hair was long, golden and beautiful, but it moved Jaime naught.

He had only eyes for his wife. For Sansa. Never again would golden hair hold any appeal for him. He wanted to storm the room and go and find her, but his father's next words stopped him cold.

"And you will marry Sansa Stark. She's a finer prize than you could ever hope for." Jaime's eyes swung around to see his father looking at Tyrion.

Dread filled Jaime's stomach, and he let out a pained sound.

His father's green-gold eyes pinned Jaime.

"Unless you've finally consented to give up this ridiculous notion of being a glorified bodyguard and are willing to take your place as my heir. Marry Sansa Stark, Jaime and the Rock is yours." Tywin’s fist was clenched and Jaime could see the disappointment and disgust in his father’s eyes. Jaime knew that he would never expect him to consent to such a match.

Cersei tilted her head back and laughed, and even Tyrion shook his head at Tywin’s foolishness.

Jaime met his father's eyes and nodded. “I agree.”

He watched as stunned disbelief warred with relief on Tywin Lannister's face. Then his father's eyes narrowed.

Before he could say anything, Jaime spoke again.

"Summon her here. Let us get her agreement in private. She knows she is powerless and she cannot say no to us."

Jaime prayed that she had somehow ended up back here with him, or else this had the potential to go very poorly for him. If this was the Sansa from the past, and not his Sansa, he would be fucked.

Tywin nodded and called for the Stark woman to be brought to the small council room in the Tower of the Hand.

"Jaime," Cersei hissed, hurt and anger on her face. And betrayal.

Seeing that look, Jaime’s guts twisted at how she had used him again and again. All their children were alive right now, but still, it wasn't enough. He wanted his wife, the woman he was in love with, not his sister and their twisted relationship.

Sansa made Jaime feel clean and that he was worthy of love, something Cersei had never been able to accomplish.

"This had better not be a game, Jaime," came Tywin's cold voice and Jaime met his father's gaze. For so long Jaime had longed to see his father again, despite their fraught relationship. Now, here he was, and Jaime was giving Tywin exactly what he’d always wanted for his firstborn son.

"It's not."

Tywin must have seen something convincing in Jaime’s eyes because he gave a short, hard nod.

When Sansa strode in, her eyes immediately searched for Jaime's, and he felt a surge of relief that would have brought him to his knees had he been standing. He wanted to rush to her, to press his lips to her, to hold her in his arms, but he could not.

Jaime knew immediately that the Sansa standing here was his Sansa from sometime in the future. He'd helped her into the very gown she was wearing hours earlier before the Long Night.

She stopped, and he saw the relief cross her face when she saw him, and they communicated silently, each acknowledging that the person before the other was the ones they had been moments before.

It was as if nobody noticed that they were years older than what they should have been. It was as if they had simply been slotted into this time frame as they had been moments ago in the North and during the war with the Night King.

Jaime sent her a pleading look, hoping her brilliant brain would work out that it was more than just themselves they could save; her brother and mother were still alive, his children, Rickon. So many people could be saved if they were smart enough.

"Lady Sansa, please sit," Tywin said and indicated a chair on the other side of Jaime. She did and met the Great Lion's cold gaze.

"As you are aware, your betrothal to Joffrey has ended. You are in a vulnerable position. An unwed noblewoman, with traitors as family,” Tywin spoke, his voice low and raspy. Jaime almost grinned as Sansa barely even reacted. He knew she’d faced down greater monsters than his father. Jaime had to clutch as his breeches to keep his hand from hers.

Sansa snorted, and Tywin glared, a bit stunned at her response. He had expected wailing. Protests. Perhaps tears? Not a snort.

"You find this amusing,” Tywin ground out, fury lashing his every word. The Great Lion hated to be mocked.

She met his gaze, which he found unnerving. No one met his gaze and certainly NOT unwed noblewomen with no allies and no power.

"You are at war with my brother. If he were to die, I am next in line, as the rumours are rampant that my other two brothers were killed by the traitor Theon Greyjoy. I am the key to the North, My Lord. I am far from worthless."

Tywin seethed, hating that she was right. Sansa Stark was the key to the North and the reason Tywin wanted her wed into his family. Her bloodline was impeccable, her breeding superb and her beauty almost unrivalled. She was one of the only women worthy of a match to his son, and to become the next mistress of Casterly Rock.

Tywin leaned in, invading her space, but she didn’t even cower back. His eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Regardless of that fact, you have very little leverage here. The King has graciously consented to another marriage for you."

Once again, she rolled her eyes and Jaime just about crowed with glee, watching her match wits with his father.

"The bastard king," she muttered, and Tywin slammed his fist down.

"What was that?"

Sansa gave Tywin a look and the Great Lion knew this was a dangerous woman who would not bow before him.

"Let us not be coy, My Lord. We all know the King's parents are sitting in this room."

Sansa gave a pointed look to both Jaime and Cersei. She hated to throw the man she loved to the proverbial lion, but she knew they had only one chance to get this right. She needed a second marriage to Jaime, and not Tyrion. Sansa reached out and grabbed Jaime’s hand and squeezed, pleased when he returned the gesture.

Tywin blanched. He glanced at Jaime and Cersei and a rage unlike they had ever seen overtook his features. He wanted to rail at both of them for such utter stupidity. His blood ran cold, wondering who else might know the King’s true parentage.

Then his gaze swung back to Sansa. He had underestimated her. Cersei said she was vapid and stupid and worthless. Obviously, she was not.

Tywin risked a look at Jaime and saw that his son was practically grinning at her.

_What the fuck was going on?_

"Careful, Lady Sansa. Accidents happen every day to women with no protection."

Tywin watched out of the corner of his eye as his son, his heir, reached for his sword.

_Would he really draw it on him over this woman? _

Tywin hated to feel like he didn't know what was going on, but for some reason, Jaime seemed smitten with Sansa Stark. His son had never been smitten with a woman his entire life unless Tywin counted his daughter.

Sansa met his gaze and nodded.

“Accidents do happen to women with no protection. But I am the highest-ranking lady that you can marry your son too, Lord Tywin. So perhaps I am not quite as vulnerable as you think.”

Tywin snorted, shaking his head at her cheek. She was a bold one, that was sure, and Tywin had to give her credit for the courage she had shown here today. She would make an excellent Lady Lannister.

"You will marry my son and become the new Lady of Casterly Rock."

Sansa's eyes swung to Jaime's. Her husband. Who was right there and looking at her with such love that she wanted to throw herself into his arms and ask him what was going on.

_How had they ended up back here of all places? _

But his eyes were urging her to think.

"And what about my brother and my mother?" Sansa asked.

Tywin snorted. “They are traitors, Lady Sansa."

Sansa nodded and then cocked her head. "And what would that make Roose Bolton? Or Walder Frey? Two houses pledged to House Stark and House Tully?”

Tywin's face paled, and his eyes narrowed, having just finalized plans for the Young Wolf.

The others, Cerise and Tyrion looked lost and stunned at what was happening before them, while Jaime had all but crossed his arms and was grinning at Lady Sansa.

"What do you know, Lady Sansa?" Tywin snarled.

"Guarantee their safety and I will marry your heir, Lord Tywin," Sansa said and saw him shake in anger at being outmaneuvered.

"You ask too much," he growled.

She shrugged. "You can have an alliance and end a war. With a marriage and a raven. I will marry Ser Jaime and give him the heirs you so desperately want and need. True heirs that can take his name, that will be the next lions of Casterly Rock.”

Sansa knew she had the Old Lion. She knew that what Tywin wanted more than anything was to secure his legacy. He would not do that through either Cersei or Tyrion – only Jaime. And Sansa’s bloodline would not be questioned by anyone in the realm.

His eyes swung to Jaime's, Cersei and Tyrion, all but forgotten.

"You agree? You'll give up your white cloak and take your rightful place? Marry Sansa and give our house proper heirs?"

Jaime nodded. “I will, Father.”

"And you, Lady Sansa? You'll wed my son, produce heirs. Become the next Lady Lannister?"

She nodded. "I will."

"When?"

"Tomorrow, if you so desire, Lord Tywin."

He grunted at that, his eyebrows raised at her eagerness. She hadn’t even hesitated, and if Tywin wasn’t mistaken, Jaime appeared excited at such a prospect.

"Three days. In the Great Sept of Baelor."

"Father, no," Cersei all but shrieked, rising to her feet in protest. "You cannot. She is a traitor, and you cannot do this to Jaime."

Tywin sneered at her. "You disgust me. At least with this marriage, I can hope to salvage something out of the wreckage of his life. Be careful, daughter, that I did not find a different marriage for you."

"My son is the king," she begun to say.

Tywin slammed a fist down on the table, making the goblets shake.

"He is a bastard with no claim to the throne. If she knows, who else?" Tywin said pointing to Sansa. “Do you have any idea the position this puts us in, Cersei? Stannis Baratheon is the rightful heir to the Iron Throne!” Tywin bellowed. “You will sit down, shut up and do as you are bid before you bring our entire house down around your lying mouth.”

Sansa smiled at Cersei as the woman glared at her.

"I suggest you two spend some time getting to know one another," Tywin said, dismissing them all. He was spun at what he had learned, what he had failed to see before him. He’d given Cersei too much credit, and now, she could ruin them all.

As Sansa rose, Jaime was by her side in an instant. He wanted to kiss her, drag his hand through her hair, bring her back to his rooms and bury himself in her warm and willing body. Three days and she'd be his wife. Again.

Instead, he picked up her hand and kissed it and shot her a charming grin. A smile that had made more than one woman in the realm swoon, but was reserved only for Sansa now.

"Lady Sansa," he all but purred.

She grinned.

"Ser Jaime."

"Perhaps a ride in the Kingswood, My Lady, so we can talk and get to know one another?"

She smiled. "I do like to ride, Ser Jaime."

He threw his head back and laughed.

"Oh, I'm sure you do, little wolf, I'm sure you do."

Then they were gone, leaving behind three stunned Lannister's. Cersei stormed out in a jealous rage, leaving Tywin and Tyrion behind.

"What the fuck was that?" Tyrion asked, and for once, his father had no answers. He shook his head.

If he didn't know better, Tywin would swear that they were in love. Tywin remembered flirting like that with his wife, whom he'd loved more than any other. But he'd never seen Jaime act that way. Not with anyone – not even Cersei.

Sansa Stark was not anything that Tywin had been expecting. She knew things; she challenged him. She made his son smile and laugh. And she'd forced his hand with the Starks.

"I don't know," Tywin muttered and stalked from the room.

Tyrion left soon afterwards, whistling. He had escaped yet another marriage plot, his brother was happy, and his sister was in a snit. All in all, a perfect day. He had a warm and willing woman waiting for him, and the sense that everything was about to change in Kings Landing.


	2. Chapter 2

The moment they were out in the hall, Jaime grabbed her hand and looked at her.

"Where are your rooms?"

Sansa grinned and led him down the hallway. Her mind was reeling about how this had happened and why, but as long as she had her husband, she would be fine. She knew it.

Thank gods they'd arrived before so much of the bad stuff had happened. The thought that Robb and her mother might live, that Rickon might live, it made her almost giddy.

And to see Cersei's face! That had been worth everything.

They had so much to discuss, but she knew they'd have to be careful until they were wed. Right now, Jaime was only her betrothed in this time, not her husband. Not yet.

When Sansa pulled open her door, she glanced around the tiny rooms and not seeing Shae, tugged Jaime inside. He barred the door and dragged her into his arms, which made Sansa all but melt to be held by him again. The last she’d seen him, he’d been locking her in the Great Hall in Winterfell, rushing away to face the Army of the Dead.

"Fucking seven hells, what happened?" he murmured, kissing her deeply. He shuddered at the thought of being parted from her. He slanted his lips, taking hers, again and again, until they were both bruised and panting, needy for one another and revelling in being able to touch again.

"I don't know. We were in the Great Hall, everyone was screaming, the dead were coming, and then there was this light, and I'm here. In what I was wearing moments ago in Winterfell, Jaime." Her eyes clouded with confusion, trying to puzzle it out.

He nodded and told her the same thing.

"Is it permanent?"

"I have no idea."

And really, who could they ask?

"But we're us? As we were a few moments ago?" Sansa asked, biting her lip. She had no looking glass, but Jaime had the same appearance as he did when he was in their bed this morning, so she must be the same as well.

He agreed. "It's like they didn't notice,” he murmured, thinking of his family.

She glanced down and then turned. "Check to see if my scars are still there," she ordered Jaime, and he did.

"Yes," he said, frowning. He took off his golden hand, and his stump looked the same.

"I wasn't even back here yet," he was muttering.

He felt horror at the thought of where Brienne might be, but he didn't know what he could do about it. There was no way to rescue her from Bolton hands, and who knew if Lady Catelyn had even released them together in this time. Jaime just had no way of knowing.

Then he pulled her into his arms again. "Thank God you are with me. And that we arrived when we did, before you were married to Tyrion.” That thought made Jaime’s stomach turn. Sansa was his and no man would ever touch her, claim her or love her like he did.

She nodded into his chest. For now, there was nothing they could do but play the game that was in front of them. She felt Jaime lean down and press a kiss to her neck.

"You were brilliant with my father," he was whispering into her ear, and she laughed. As always, Jaime was somehow able to find a silver lining in even the darkest times.

"Do you think we can save them?" She wasn’t just thinking about her family, but Jaime’s children as well. Despite his horrible choices with his sister, Sansa knew he loved Myrcella and Tommen.

He drew back and looked at her. "I hope so, little wolf." They were lost in each other, enjoying the moment when there was a knock on the door and they stilled.

"Open up, you fools," came Tyrion's voice.

When Sansa opened her door, the dwarf pushed inside. He looked between the two of them and wondered how any could have missed it.

Jaime had been back in King’s Landing for a fortnight and had been a hermit. Tyrion thought it was because he’d lost his sword hand and Cersei had rejected him. But now, it all made sense. Jaime had been falling for the beautiful Sansa Stark and had hidden it from everyone, including Cersei and their father. No doubt had Tywin caught wind, he would have insisted on this marriage between the two of them even sooner.

When he told them as much, Jaime nodded and agreed that was what had happened.

"Cersei is livid. And Joffrey," Tyrion said, almost shuddering to think what the King might do when he found out that Sansa was to be married to Jaime.

While the petulant King swore he hated Sansa, Tyrion had watched him love to torture her. With Jaime as her husband, that would all end, and that was sure to anger Joffrey. At least Tywin was here to keep him in check. He seemed to be the only one these days that had any authority over Joffrey. Certainly, Cersei had long ago lost whatever influence she claimed to have.

Tyrion hopped up onto a chair and toasted Jaime. He saw his brother reach for his soon to be wife and draw her to his side as she fit herself against him. They were comfortable with each other in a way that Tyrion recognized only came from previous intimacy.

"For fuck sakes, you two have already been together. Don't let father catch wind, or there will be hell to pay, Jaime."

Although really, what could Tywin do? Insist they marry sooner? These two idiots would most likely love that idea.

Jaime had to grace to look chagrined, and Sansa's eyes widened, but neither denied it. Tyrion never thought he'd see the day when his brother would willingly leave his sister's side for another woman, let alone risk their father’s wrath by sleeping with her and risking being forced to marry her.

"You've made the Great Lion quite happy, you know," Tyrion continued, and Jaime and Sansa exchanged a look, wondered how long the dwarf might stay. He waved his wine at them.

"Oh, I'm not leaving you two alone. No, no, no. That would be all kinds of bad. Shae is on her way here now, Lady Sansa. And tomorrow you will have the pleasure of dining with the Lannisters. Father has also indicated a completely new wardrobe will be yours. You're sure to be a busy woman, sister, in the next three days."

They both sighed. Then Shae was there, and Jaime was kissing her goodbye and that he'd see her tomorrow. Sansa pouted, and he grinned and hauled her against him again.

"Fuck, little wolf, I love you," he whispered in his ear, and she giggled.

"I love you too, husband." She nipped at him a bit. Jaime’s eyes heated and he let out a little growl before he let Tyrion pull him away and was gone.

Tyrion and Jaime made their way to the Lannister apartments, together, both lost in their thoughts.

"She is a stunning woman," Tyrion eventually said, and Jaime grunted his agreement. He knew the less he said, the better.

When they entered the room, both Cersei and Tywin were there, waiting. One looked ready to murder him, and the other seemed almost happy. Jaime cocked his head. No, not happy, as Jaime wasn’t sure his father would ever truly be happy, but Tywin looked, satisfied and pleased with Jaime and that was a rare enough occurrence.

"I'm glad you've come to your senses," the Great Lion said, confirming Jaime's initial thought that by agreeing to marry Sansa, Tywin was securing his family’s legacy.

Jaime nodded.

"It was time, Father."

Cersei barked out a harsh laugh. "It's a jape. Ridiculous." She took another long pull of wine, as the finally struggled to her feet, glaring at all three of them.

All three Lannister men just looked at her as she strode from the room, shaking their heads and wondering at the problem she would be in the upcoming days.

Later, when Jaime was in his room alone, he took off the hand and looked down in wonder, remembering when Sansa would help him with the cloth and then the golden hand. He couldn't wait to have her as his wife. Again.

He heard Cersei before she pushed into his room. He saw her recoil in disgust at the scarred tissue but made no move to cover it. Sansa had pressed her lips to it, loving him and claiming he was brave, while Cersei looked like she might be sick.

He shook his head at how different they were and how he had ever thought Cersei would be the only woman for him.

"Jaime, you can't possibly be serious about this marriage," she said and moved towards him sitting on the bed.

He stood and took a chair, as to not be on the bed with her.

"I am."

He saw her eyes fill with tears as she reached for him, clutching at his tunic.

"Jaime, it is us. You and I, against everyone. It is always us, Jaime. There is no one in this world that means more to me than you.”

He shook his head. He could almost believe her if he didn't know. She did this; used tears, lies, manipulations to make him feel things. She was a master manipulator and for years Jaime had allowed himself to be played by her, even when he had known what she had been doing. It had taken Sansa for him to see how wrong they were.

"We are wrong, Cersei. You know it, as do I."

She reared up and slapped him.

"I will see her dead before you are taken from me."

He felt a surge of fear and anger, and he grabbed her wrist and bent it until he saw the pain in her eyes. "Do not ever threaten her again."

He let his eyes go cold and deadly. Cersei might have led him around by his heart for most of their life, but Jaime was a dangerous man. He’d had years to get accustomed to his missing hand, and was one of the finest swordsmen in the kingdom, even to this day. It was time that Cersei remembered that.

"Who is she to you?" Cersei seethed.

"That is none of your concern, sister. But if a single hair on her head is harmed, I'll see that Joffrey is dead."

She reeled back but saw the truth in his eyes.

"You wouldn't. He is your son!” she all but shrieked.

"Do not try me, Cersei. You will not like the outcome should you push me on this.”

Cersei locked eyes with him; eyes that were identical to his and she saw the truth there.

She strode from the room, and Jaime flung himself onto his bed.

He missed his wife. He slept better with her in his arms, the sweet little snores she made and the way she tucked herself against him. He knew she was often in the throes of nightmares when the dark came and he hated he would not be there to comfort her.

He’d survived his first encounter with Cersei and somehow one with his father. Jaime wondered for a moment if Sansa was in danger and then thought about his sister. Jaime knew better than anyone exactly what Cersei would do to those she perceived as a threat.

Jaime rose and found his armour, strapping his sword to his side. He didn't trust Cersei or his son, and he'd keep guard of Sansa until she was in his bed each night and his wife. He would not lose her, not to anyone, and most especially not to his own family. He was her husband and it was his job to protect her, from anyone who might harm her.  
  


* * *

When Sansa opened her door the next morning, it was to find her husband in the hallway, slumped in a stupor, clutching his sword.

He'd come to guard her. Her heart swelled, and she rushed to his side, pressing a kiss against his lips.

"Jaime," she whispered, and he awoke.

"Little wolf," he said, grinning at her.

"Come on, you silly man," she said and helped him to his feet. He grasped his hand in hers and started walking towards his rooms.

"Where are you taking me?"

"To break our fast with my lovely family," he told her, wiggling his eyebrows. She was giggling as they pushed into the rooms, holding hands.

All eyes were on them and mouths dropped open. No one had ever seen Jaime Lannister act like this.

Sansa blushed and pressed closer to him. She hadn't seen him in his Lannister armour before, and she realized how much she liked it. When he’d come North, his armour had been dark. Now it was red and gold and suited him.

Tywin looked at the two of them.

"Did you spend the night together?" he all but ground out, his jaw tight and green eyes were flashing.

Jaime shook his head and pulled her over to the table, seating her beside Tyrion.

"No. I just guarded her outside her door."

"Why?"

Jaime gave his father a look.

At that moment, the King came into the room. Jaime arched an eyebrow at his father, as Joffrey stopped and took one look at Sansa and almost shrieked. It was hard to imagine that this man had been one that had put so much fear into her before. At twenty, he was pathetic and immature and she could see right through him. Worse, he was a bad ruler. 

Sansa rolled her eyes. She had survived worse than Joffrey Baratheon. She rarely thought about Ramsay Bolton these days, but Joffrey Baratheon was nothing compared to the monster she had been married to in the North.

"He sounds like a squealing cat," Sansa muttered and caught a smirk on Tywin Lannister's severe face.

"What is she doing here?" he cried, waving a hand about, glancing at Sansa and then to his grandfather.

Tywin rose. "She is marrying your Uncle. In two days."

"But I am the King. Why was I not consulted?" His voice was whiny and sullen.

"Last time I checked, I was Lord of Casterly Rock and not you. Jaime is my son and my heir. Sit."

Tywin's tone brooked no argument.

Joffrey sat.

Beside Sansa.

Jaime seethed.

As if Joffrey realized the power he had, he leaned in, closer to Sansa.

"Tell me, Lady Sansa, what do you think about the practice of First Night? I could put a real babe in your stomach. You were supposed to be mine."

She felt the bile rise. She would never allow Joffrey Baratheon to touch her ever again. How she had ever thought him a golden prince when she was married to a man that truly loved her was beyond her comprehension.

Tywin's face was a mask of rage at the King’s behaviour. But before Tywin could react, Jaime did.

Jaime pushed his chair back and hauled Joffrey to his feet, slamming his face down in his food. The King shrieked, and Jaime twisted his arm behind his back, pulling hard.

"No one will touch my wife but me."

Joff's eyes widened. Then Jaime grinned, and it was a fearsome thing to behold.

"I've already killed one King. Touch her again, and your life is forfeit."

Jaime met his father's eyes and saw a grim satisfaction there. Jaime still hadn't let go of Joff's arm. He was whimpering in pain. Cersei looked outraged and worried.

"Tommen is a much better temperament for a King. And accidents do seem to happen to Kings regularly," Jaime added and met Cersei’s’ eyes so she could see that he was not lying.

When the pain had become too much, and Joffrey was close to passing out, Jaime let him go. He shot to his feet, looking wildly around the room.

"I'll…."

"You'll what?" Jaime fingered his sword. He knew there were marks on his wife's back from his son and his cruelties. He'd never let her suffer that again under Joffrey again, even if that meant he had to take care of the King himself.

"Jaime," Cersei hissed, and Tywin stood.

"Enough. You will not touch Lady Sansa. Nor will any of your Kingsguards."

"I am the King," Joff all but shrieked.

"Kings can be replaced." Tywin Lannister's grim smile was a sight to behold.

Even Cersei paled and swallowed hard. Her father had always backed Joffrey, but now, with her son’s increasing erratic behaviour, Cersei knew that Tywin would protect his House and legacy first. And that was Sansa and Jaime.

"Little wolf, I believe you are due for dress fittings," Jaime said, holding his hand out to his wife. She pushed her chair back and walked up to Jaime, taking his hand.

He gave his family a mocking bow.

"Until later."

Then he hurried them out of the rooms, but not before seeing the grim look of satisfaction on his father's face, and pure fear on Joffrey's.

Yes, Jaime thought, things in King’s Landing would be different this time around.

He was starting with his son and his sister. Jaime had been deadly serious. He would not hesitate to pick Sansa over either Cersei or Joffrey.

He'd done so with Cersei, and he'd do so with Joffrey. He was done playing by anyone's rules but his own.

The Golden Lion was back, and Jaime pitied anyone that didn’t take note. Because when Jaime put someone under his love and protection, no force on earth could stop him from keeping them safe. Not even a King.


	3. Chapter 3

Jaime had a death grip on Sansa's hand as he tried to get them as far away from his family as possible. His horrible, twisted family that had caused her so much pain.

He'd been devastated when Joffrey had died, but watching his son today with his wife, he felt a shudder run through him. Jaime would never choose Joffrey over Sansa, and he could only pray she knew that.

The King had wanted her - and wanted to cause her pain. Jaime was lost in his head when a voice rang out.

"Stop." Jaime had been obeying that voice his entire life and he skidded to a stop.

They turned to see Tywin stalking towards them.

Even though he'd seen approval in his father's eyes in the dining hall when he’d defended Sansa against the King, Jaime knew that his behaviour was erratic at best. He had to get it together if they had any chance of making this work. The problem was there was so much he knew they both wanted to change, and so many factors at play. And they couldn't even really be alone yet.

When Tywin was in front of them, he looked at their clasped hands and frowned.

"I am meeting with Olenna Tyrell today to discuss the marriage of you two, as well as a marriage between Cersei and Loras Tyrell."

Tywin saw Sansa frown and wondered at that.

"What?" he barked out.

She shook her head slightly and sighed and looked at Jaime. They hadn't even discussed what they would and would not disclose – what they should try to change.

Her husband shrugged and gave her a look as if to say he didn't know what to do. They had no idea what they had already changed just by being here, the two of them.

Sansa looked at Tywin.

"Did you send the raven to my brother?" He grimaced but nodded. "So, he knows about my marriage? And not to trust the Boltons or the Freys?"

"Yes." Tywin ground the word out. "What is on your mind, Lady Sansa?"

"Do you honestly think that Olenna Tyrell is going to sit by and watch Joffrey tear her precious granddaughter apart?"

Tywin's mouth thinned further. "He is the King…"

"He is a monster. We all know that. Tell me, Lord Tywin. What type of King strips a woman in front of the full court? Has her beaten by his Kingsguard? Holds a crossbow to her, punishing her for her brother's victories?" Sansa felt disgust roil in her blood. "He should be put down."

"That is treason, Lady Sansa."

She huffed out a frustrated sigh. "They aren't even Baratheon's. Neither him nor Tommen. You have a better claim to the Throne, Lord Tywin, than either one of them."

Tywin's eyes narrowed. It seemed Jaime’s wife knew the histories of the noble families at least as well as he did. He’d rarely found anyone who was as knowledgeable as he was.

Sansa sighed.

"Stannis Baratheon and Shireen are the rightful heirs to the Iron Throne, My Lord. As long as they are alive, you have a problem. We have a problem." She pinched her nose. "But, if they were to be taken care of, well then, your great-great-grandfather, Mathin Lannister married a Baratheon. That makes you the next in line to be King of the seven kingdoms.”

Tywin leaned in closer. "Do you want to be Queen, Lady Sansa? Is the Rock not a great enough prize for you?" He was trying to get her measure, to see what she was angling for. He hated that he felt two steps behind her at every turn.

She held his gaze and then looked to Jaime. Tywin didn’t miss how much love that Sansa Stark had for his son. She was useless at hiding her feelings for him.

"I'd love nothing more than to marry Jaime, have his children and retire to the Rock. I've heard it is beautiful." She said it softly, her voice filled with love and longing.

Then her blue eyes swung back to the Great Lion. Tywin had never heard anyone, but a Lannister speak of his home with such desire.

_What had Jaime told her about their family seat that this Northern princess wanted to be there?_ Tywin wondered.

"But the idea of Joffrey on the Throne," she said and let out a small shudder. "Don't tell me you haven't had the same thoughts. And don't even get me started on the dragons in Essos."

"Beasts that are on the far side of the world, Lady Sansa are no threat to us."

Jaime barked out a laugh. "Beasts grow. You'd be wise not to take your eye of them, father."

Tywin's gold-green eyes swung back to his son. A son who hadn't let the Stark woman's hand go this entire time. And he was stroking it and looking at her with moon eyes. Tywin just about rolled his own eyes at how besotted these two were with one another.

"And you? Your soon to be wife is talking about usurping the King. Your son, if I'm not mistaken." Tywin was still angry about Jaime and Cersei’s choices that were now threatening to undo everything he had worked for.

Jaime looked pained. "He is. And he is not fit to rule. We both know that. He will destroy our House, along with Cersei, father. The sooner we acknowledge that truth, the sooner we can secure the realm from their tyranny.”

Tywin grunted. He had never heard Jaime speak like this. He had never even known Jaime cared about the politics of Westeros, or that he might truly be able to sacrifice something for the greater good.

_What had Sansa Stark done to his son?_ Tywin thought.

Jaime pulled Sansa to his side, as both of them tried to sort through all that they knew. There was so much to try and fix, and he felt her shudder out a sigh.

"You love each other."

Tywin's voice cut through their musings.

They turned as one, and he was stunned. He didn’t think Jaime capable of such an emotion. Jaime refused to answer his father’s statement, instead pushing forward with what needed to be done to ensure Sansa was safe.

"We need to be wed, Father. There are so many threats to both our houses."

"And what would you have me do about Cersei if you claim Olenna is plotting against us?"

Sansa smirked. "Loras Tyrell does not like woman, Lord Tywin. No matter how hard you push that marriage. And he is much too weak for a woman of her nature.”

"Disgusting," he bit out, and Sansa shrugged. Then he eyed the two of them. "You might have a need to see the Rock, the both of you, but together, you are a force. You will be wed, and you will stay here, in King’s Landing. I will not have my legacy destroyed because of someone like Joffrey."

Tywin paused and took them in again. He had waited his entire life for his son to become the man he knew he was capable of being. And now, the Jaime standing before him was that man.

"Be in the Throne Room this afternoon. Jaime, you will be dismissed from the Kingsguard, and your marriage announced."

He turned and stalked away from them, leaving Sansa and Jaime grinning at one another.

Jaime hurried them to the stables. They needed privacy and a chance to talk. So far, they'd had neither. Once they were in the stables, Sansa picked her mount as Jaime sat upon a white war horse his father was so fond of.

Within moments they were on their way, and Jaime felt the shackles and burden of King’s Landing leave him as they rode further away, galloping through the southern gates, no one daring to stop the Golden Lion and the pretty woman that rode beside him.

When they finally came to a clearing just inside the Kingswood, Jaime stopped them and helped Sansa dismount, taking a cloak and spreading it against a tree, holding open his arms until Sansa cuddled into him. She exhaled contentedly, as Jaime's hand traced patterns over her back, loving having her in his arms again.

"We're fucked," he said after a time, and she laughed, the sound easing some of the tension Jaime felt.

"We are,” Sansa agreed.

They were quiet for a time.

"We know so much, but how much can we change? And will it be better or worse? We know in the end that the Night King is coming. That's the true threat. But there are others. Dany. Stannis. Petyr. The Boltons. Joffrey. Cersei. The Tyrells."

So many enemies that Sansa had listed and each with their own chance to destroy them.

Jaime grunted his agreement at her list.

"Where is your scary sister right now?" Jaime asked.

Sansa frowned. "Somewhere with Sandor, I think. She mentioned they arrived at the Red Wedding to see my brother's direwolf head sewn onto his body."

Jaime felt the shudder run through her and wondered at how she even spoke to his father, knowing what Tywin had put in motion in their previous life.

"I'd like to save Myrcella and Tommen. If we could," he told her quietly, and Sansa nodded, her heart aching for him. "I'd like them to be away from here, from the Red Keep and Cersei. I’d like Cella to come back from Dorne, and to send her and Tom to the Rock where they would be safe and loved.”

"I wonder how my brother will react to our wedding?" Sansa said, a bit grimly.

Jaime snorted. "He hates me, Sansa. For a good reason." Sansa knew that Robb did hate Jaime, but knowing the role that her mother had played in everything that happened, perhaps there was still a chance to get Robb to see reason. While he was chasing lions in the south, a monster was taking their home. Robb needed to focus on the North and what he’d left behind and leave the south to her.

They were quiet again, when Jaime said, "I don't even know where Brienne is."

Sansa sat up and pushed herself against Jaime's chest, a plan formulating in her mind.

"We need to meet with my brother. Face to face. We need to speak to him about the Bolton's and the North and Theon." Sansa paled, and she felt sick. "Oh gods, Ramsay has Theon, Jaime."

He knew what Sansa's previous husband had done to the Iron Born Lord; she'd told him one evening, and he felt ill at the thought at such torture and mutilation.

"Once we are married, I will propose that we meet on neutral ground with your brother and mother. I'm sure something can be done, little wolf,” Jaime told her.

"I thought this would be easy, but it's so hard. One wrong move and I'm afraid that I'll lose you," she said into his chest, and he growled his disapproval. He hauled her up and kissed her. Hard.

"I don't care what my father says; if it is too dangerous here, I will take you to the Rock, Sansa. The Castle has never been breached. We will bring Tommen and Tyrion and go and send for Cella. I could keep you safe there and we have enough stores to last for five years. There isn’t an army in all of Westeros that could get us there, Sansa."

She nodded into his neck, her mind racing. There was some measure of comfort knowing that Casterly Rock remained a safe option for them.

When they eventually entered the Great Hall later, they saw Joffrey on the Iron Throne, sulking and shooting Jaime's fearful looks.

Jaime had stopped to get the Kingsguard cloak he'd worn for so long, Sansa helping place it on his shoulders once more. Neither one of them had many good memories associated with the white cloaks and the sooner it was off Jaime’s back, the better.

The full court was present in the Great Hall as they walked into together, not touching, but close. Sansa felt all eyes of the court on her as she went to stand by Tywin. For some reason, the Great Lion didn't scare her in this time. Perhaps it was because he knew that she loved his son and that his son loved her.

But there were more than enough here that Sansa hated. She felt Littlefinger's eyes on her and tried to suppress a shudder. Clearly, she failed, as Tywin leaned down and whispered into her ear.

"Who bothers you?"

"Baelish," she said, and his lips thinned.

The Great Lion looked over to the man who was watching his son's soon to be betrothed with a hunger Tywin recognized. It was a hunger that said he wanted Sansa Stark for himself. Tywin would never allow the whoremonger to have her.

Tywin moved fractionally closer to Lady Sansa as Joffrey thanked then dismissed Jaime from his service. Jaime let the white cloak fall and felt instantly freer.

Tywin mounted the steps to stand before his grandson as he addressed the court.

“In two day’s time, Jaime of House Lannister and Sansa of House Stark will be wed in the Great Sept of Baelor.”

A shocked murmur ran through the crowd, most long ago having decided that Jaime would never take his rightful place as Tywin’s heir.

The Great Lion missed nothing; he saw Olenna's face grimace and Baelish's eyes dart to Sansa, as the man licked his lips. Cersei still looked as if she would do anything possible to stop the wedding, and Tywin knew he needed to get her married and out of Kings Landing.

When the court had adjourned, Littlefinger came to offer his congratulations. He simpered and preened and tried to press closer to Sansa, but Jaime was there, standing guard and ensuring that Littlefinger could do her no harm.

"I cannot help but wonder what your mother would think, My Lady," Petyr said, disapproval ringing in his voice.

Sansa arched an elegant eyebrow and stood closer to Jaime.

"I'm marrying the most eligible man in the realm, Lord Baelish. One who is set to inherit the greatest Castle in Westeros. I cannot imagine my mother being anything but happy at such an advantageous marriage for her eldest daughter."

Petyr's lips thinned.

"The Lannisters and Starks are sworn enemies, my dear."

He told her this as if she were a particularly stupid woman.

"Yes, and I can't help but wonder why," Sansa mused. "It's almost as if someone were creating distrust amongst us. Someone who might benefit from the chaos when two great houses made enemies of one another.”

Jaime laughed and leaned in to press his lips close to her ear. "Careful, Baelish. She bites."

Littlefinger reared back. "You've changed, Lady Sansa." The disapproval in his eyes was clear for all to see.

"I have. Be careful, Petyr. It would be awful if someone were to tell my mother all the things you've done to _help_ our family." No one missed how Sansa emphasized the word help.

He paled and glanced around. Then he rallied.

"Do you know what your future husband has done, My Lady? Do you want to be with a man they call the Kingslayer? Think of your children, and how they might grow up with such a father.”

Sansa sent Jaime such a look of love and devotion that those who saw it were left stunned.

"We have no secrets, Lord Baelish. I know exactly the type of man my soon to be husband is."

Jaime straightened under her open praise as she rested a hand on his chest. Sansa couldn’t care less if she wasn’t acting like a proper noblewoman. She loved Jaime and wouldn’t listen to any besmirch his name any longer.

She turned her blue eyes to Littlefinger's. "The real question is, do you want my mother to know what you have done, Baelish?"

She let him see that she knew about all his manipulations; what he had set in motion. The whoremonger swallowed hard. Before he turned to leave, Sansa's voice rang out.

"And Petyr, you should know that Lord Royce would not take kindly to you showing up in the Vale. Leave my Aunt alone. I've already sent a raven, warning her about you."

He spun back to her, sputtering. Her eyes narrowed. "The Vale does not need you, Lord Baelish. Leave my cousin Robin alone. I’d hate for him to find out who murdered his father." Baelish looked like he might be sick as he hurried away.

Tywin cackled in glee at his future daughter-in-law. She was a stunningly intelligent woman with a tongue that could bring empires down. And she'd publicly backed his son, despite that loathsome name that followed Jaime around. He realized at that moment that Sansa Stark just might be the person to save House Lannister from itself.

"Did you send the raven to Royce, love?" Jaime asked softly, and Sansa nodded, turning her head, so they were close.

"Right before we came, Jaime. He needed to know." Jaime had seen the Vale knight’s devotion to Sansa at Winterfell and it was a good move; a risk, but a calculated one.

Jaime couldn't agree more. "Brilliant little wolf," he murmured into his ear, neither aware that Tywin was watching them the entire time.

"Well, that was unexpected," came Lady Olenna's voice as she eyed them critically. She had just witnessed someone put Littlefinger in his place. Effectively. And it scared her. She had plans for the man from the Vale and Lady Sansa was stomping all over them.

Sansa's cool blue eyes turned to the old Tyrell matriarch.

"I take the safety of my family seriously, Lady Olenna," Sansa said coolly. "All my family. People would be wise not to trust Littlefinger. The man always has an agenda."

Olenna laughed. "Don't we all, my dear. It is a shame you're not marrying Loras."

Sansa shrugged. "He's not the heir to Highgarden, and he has no interest in women. It's no loss. Such a marriage would have been beneath me."

Tywin barked out a harsh laugh, having taken more glee from this session at court than he had in a good long while.

Olenna's eyes narrowed, and she looked enraged. "The Tyrells…"

"Are little more than farmers," Sansa finished in a bored tone. "I have the blood of Kings running through my veins. And your grandson would most likely prefer my husband to me." She shot Jaime a grin. "After all, the Kingslayer is awfully handsome."

Jaime threw back his head and laughed. And then he kissed her in front of the entire court. "Gods, woman, that mouth," he said when he drew back from her.

She grinned and cupped his cheek, letting everyone see what they meant to one another.

Tywin stood mesmerized by them. He thought back to his earlier conversation when Sansa had said his claim to the throne was more legitimate than Joffrey's.

It was true, and he'd never pushed for it because there was no one to leave it to if he had claimed it- and he'd deluded himself into thinking Joffrey was a Baratheon.

Tywin had given Cersei all the power and influence she could have asked for, and she'd pissed it away.

Jaime had rejected any, and all attempts at being the true lord he was and Tywin would die before he'd see Tyrion on the Iron Throne.

But Sansa Stark changed everything. Her breeding and pedigree were undeniable; she was intelligent, beautiful and gifted in the Game of Thrones. And she loved his son. Any fool could see that. They were singularly devoted to one another.

It was too soon to make such a move for the Throne. But she was correct in the fact that the Tyrell's could not be trusted and that she was above any such match they sought for her.

"Don't be crass dear," Olenna said, in that nasty tone she had perfect.

Sansa's eyes narrowed. "Any crasser than Lady Margaery warming Renly's bed before or after her brother left it?"

Olenna's face went pale then red. Her eyes darted to Tywin's, who looked positively gleeful if that was possible. It was not a look anyone could recall having seen on Tywin Lannister’s face before.

"Tell me, Lady Olenna. How desperate are you to make Margaery a Queen that you would first betroth her to a man that likes other men and now to a man who is a monster?"

Olenna's mouth thinned.

"It makes me wonder what your plans are for our dear King," Sansa said conversationally, and Tywin did not miss the look of fear in the old matriarch's eyes. “Surely even you’ve heard of his temper with those who displease him.”

_Seven fucking hells_, Tywin thought, _Olenna did have something planned_.

Tywin would never say that Joffrey was a good ruler. In fact, most days, it took all of his power not to smash his face in for his ignorance and rudeness. But he was a Lannister, and he was the King. And Tywin hated being beaten by anyone.

His new soon to be daughter-in-law had revealed more truths in the past two days than he'd learned in years. She seemed to know everyone's secrets, and she had Jaime by her side, looking at her with such adoration and love, that people everywhere were gossiping about them. In a good way.

She had publicly backed him, stating that his reputation did not matter, while at the same time reminding everyone at court that there was scarcely person there that could compete with her lineage.

Tywin had half a mind to seat her on the Throne as Queen and rule as her hand. Together, they'd be unstoppable.

Jaime saw the hatred and fear flare in the old woman's eyes. He knew that she had been the one to poison his son, and even though Jaime would put Joffrey in his place if needed, it still ate at his guts that she had been the one to do it.

Sansa had drawn a line in the sand, and no matter what, Jaime knew he wouldn't stand back and allow this woman to use his son for her own gains. If Joffrey needed to be dealt with, Lannister's would handle it.

"Come, little wolf, time for your wedding gown fitting," Jaime said, letting his hand rest on Sansa's back. It was shocking how much freer he felt, leaving the throne room without his white cloak draped around his neck. It has been a noose for too long, and one he was glad to have shed.

When they were leaving, Jaime couldn't help but note the grin on Tyrion's face and the look of hatred on his sister's.

That was something to watch, he well knew. Cersei would never stop plotting against them. At least they seemed to have his father in the corner. Sansa had all but charmed the old lion into submission, and it seemed like she had won back his father's approval of him.

When he brought her to her chambers, he gave her a deep and lingering kiss.

"I'll be back to collect you for dinner." He jerked his head to the two Red Cloaks. "My father's most trusted men, wife. He will take no chances with your safety. He's half in love with you already."

Sansa wrapped her arms around Jaime's neck. "And his son? How in love is he with me?"

He let out a small purr of satisfaction. "All the way in love with you, my wolf. For all my days."

"Don't be too long, Jaime. I hate to be apart from you."

He nodded and kissed her once more. Even with Dragons at Winterfell, somehow, the Red Keep felt more dangerous to them both. There were enemies everywhere, and they had laid the gauntlet down today.

They knew they had too; if they changed nothing, then those they loved would still die. More than anything, they had agreed to try.

Still, it was nerve-wracking walking away from her and Jaime couldn't wait until she was his wife, again, and he could keep her by his side. He was already plotting their next move and having her by his side would only make things easier. He risked one last look at her and closed the door before turning to the guards.

"No one comes in or out, except me. Not even the King."

Jaime paused and they nodded and then he forced himself to walk away. He had a fitting as well. This wedding had to be perfect; Jaime had a feeling that his father was plotting something far grander than him becoming heir to Casterly Rock, and Jaime didn't know if he felt relieved or scared, but either way, he had to the look the part.

Everything hinged on making Sansa Stark his wife; again.

He wondered if it was a record; marrying the same woman twice in the span of days, but the thought made him grin. He would marry her every week if that's what needed. He loved her that much.


	4. Chapter 4

Sansa demanded that the dressmaker use blue fabric for her wedding gown. The woman tried to protest, but Sansa's tone and voice brooked no quarter. She wished, in some ways, that she had time to replicate the dress she had married in a few days past, in Winterfell, but she would make do with whatever the woman could find, that wasn't gold or white. She'd never be married in those colours again, not even for Jaime. And she knew he'd understand.

She had to admit that putting both Littlefinger and Lady Olenna in their place had been particularly satisfying. So was not being afraid of Joffrey, and winning the Great Lion's approval.

He was a singularly intimidating man, but one of the smartest in the realm. His devotion to his house was legendary, but even more impressive, Sansa thought, was how much the realm itself had prospered under his leadership. At the same time, Aerys was spinning himself into madness and seeing conspiracies everywhere. Sansa knew that when the kingdom was stable, the small people benefited.

And nothing was stable about Joffrey.

_Could Tywin be so ruthless as to replace him? Would he be willing to take the Throne himself? _

Sansa thought that it might even be worthwhile staying in Kings Landing if Tywin were to rule. She caught him glancing at Jaime with pride in his eyes, especially when she'd berated Littlefinger for using that awful name.

Kingslayer.

Oathbreaker.

Man without honour.

She snorted, hating her father in that moment for how he had labeled Jaime without any context for why Jaime had done what he had.

Sansa knew that Jaime needed to tell his father about Aerys. It was past time Tywin understood why Jaime had driven his sword into the King’s back. The man was a hero and he’d been ridiculed his entire life for that one action.

The soft knock on the door had the dressmaker popping up.

"I'll work on it all night," she told Sansa, as Jaime pushed in. The woman had brought several gowns that had been altered to fit Sansa's tall frame, and tonight she was wearing a green one. It was amazing what Lannister gold could do when it came to making dresses.

Jaime's eyes widened as he took her in.

"Beautiful," he murmured and pressed a kiss to her cheek and then to her lips, loving it when she let out a small, needy moan.

"Shall we, My Lady?" offering Sansa his arm to escort her through the Red Keep and to the Tower of the Hand where they would be dining tonight.

Sansa took his arm and smiled at him. She couldn't imagine doing this without him. She'd be tearing her hair out if she had been sent back here without her husband by her side.

"I warn you, Cersei is in a mood," he said in a low voice. She saw the stress and anger and wondered how he was doing, dealing with seeing her again. It hadn’t even crossed Sansa’s mind to be jealous, but now she had to ask.

"Do you wish that things were different?"

Jaime stopped. He heard the uncertainty in her voice. He turned them and drew his voice down to hers, so only she could hear. He needed Sansa to understand how much he loved her, and not Cersei.

"She has already tried to rekindle our romance, Sansa. I tell you this not to hurt you, but to tell you unequivocally that I rejected her. Do not trust a word she says. I love you, wife. I am pledged to you and only you, my love."

Her blue eyes met his green ones, and she saw the truth there. Jaime was many things, but a cheater he was not. He was almost slavishly loyal to the woman he loved, and that was her.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to be uncertain…"

Jaime stopped her with a kiss. "It is me who should be apologizing. Never you, little wolf. Cersei and I were wrong. You and I took vows. You are my wife. And soon, we will retake those vows, and there is nothing I want more than for everyone, here and now to know you are mine."

"Jaime," she sighed into his lips as he kissed her again. She never imagined having a husband that would say such romantic things to her and mean them.

"This is sure to be miserable. Remember, most of what she says will be lies. But if you are wondering about anything at all, I will tell you the truth, Sansa, when we are alone. I will never lie to you, no matter how ugly the truth may be.”

She nodded as they entered the Hand's chambers for dinner.

Tywin rose to his feet and strode over to greet them, pressing his dry lips to her cheek.

Something had changed between them, and Sansa knew she had an ally in the Great Lion. She also knew there were things he needed to know; about Littlefinger and Cersei and what the man was plotting. Today had been a good start, but it was not enough. Sansa would need to find a moment to speak with Tywin privately. He was the most powerful man in the realm, and he could help her and Jaime achieve their goals.

Tywin, for his part, was delighted to finally see his son wearing Lannister colours and not that white cloak. And the fact that he had a woman on his arm like Sansa Stark finally felt like Jaime was the man he was always supposed to be. Sansa was fast becoming everything Tywin wanted for his son.

When they were seated, Cersei picked up her goblet of wine and took a long sip. Sansa sighed, knowing what type of night she was in for.

"Tell us, Lady Sansa, how did a traitor like you convince my brother to give up his duties as a Kingsguard?"

Sansa shrugged and met Jaime's eyes.

What was she supposed to say?

_We met when the end of the world was coming for us? _

_He saw me in a way no one did? _

_I trust him when so many men have hurt me?_

"I think we're similar in what we've been through," Sansa said softly, sipping at the soup that had been served.

Cersei let out a harsh laugh. "You're the daughter of a traitor."

Sansa met Jaime's eyes, and he nodded slightly, resigned to revealing what they knew to his family. Things were already in such flux; he had no idea how to control them anymore. They just needed to do what they felt was best.

"Yes, funny how my father supported Stannis, wanting to back him for the Throne when he found out about your incestuous son. In many circles, I wouldn't be considered the traitor. You would be since you cuckolded the King.”

Cersei sucked in a breath, shocked that Sansa dared speak of such things.

Sansa pressed on. "Tell me, what did you offer Littlefinger to betray my father? More Lannister gold? We all know he had almost bankrupted the realm. Or perhaps you spread your legs for him. I mean, you were fucking your cousin Lancel at the time with Jaime off fighting a war. Perhaps it wasn’t really Jaime you loved, just a lion cock."

Sansa continued to sip her soup as silence dominated the room.

Tyrion and Tywin were absolutely stunned at Sansa’s barbs.

"Cersei," Tywin hissed eventually. "Tell me this isn't true."

She had paled and said nothing.

Sansa met the Great Lion's eyes. "Littlefinger told my mother that Tyrion was the one who tried to kill my brother; that he had sent the assassin after Bran had been pushed out the window. It was why she kidnapped him."

Tywin sucked in a pained breath and looked at his children.

"Who?"

"Littlefinger sent the assassin, although a Lannister pushed Bran out of the window. Still, it was the assassination attempt that brought our families to war, Lord Tywin."

"Who pushed Bran Stark?" Tywin’s voice had risen and no one dared to not answer him.

Jaime had to presence of mind to look chagrined at least, and Cersei smirked, as if she thought she might have Sansa where she wanted her.

"Did you know that, Sansa Stark? That it was Jaime that pushed your nosy little brother from the tower wall. He caught us in a compromising position. Your golden knight, not so shiny is he now."

Sansa held her gaze. Then she met Jaime's eyes. "I know. And I forgive him."

"Liar," Cersei all but screeched as Tywin's fist came down heavily on the table. He stood, looming over them all.

"I started a war, daughter, to retrieve Tyrion from Catelyn Stark's hands, while Baelish played us all."

She shrugged. Her indifference enraged him.

"You are all dismissed. Everyone except Lady Sansa."

Jaime went to protest, but Sansa shook her head. She needed to speak with Tywin. He was the only one who might have the power to fix this situation. Jaime stormed out of the room, hating to leave her alone with his father.

When they were alone, Tywin's green-gold eyes met hers. She had one chance to get this right.

Tywin's gaze turned to Sansa. "What else?"

Sansa cocked her head and then spoke.

"My father wanted you arrested, to answer for the crimes of your bannermen, most especially Ser Gregor Clegane." Tywin's face tightened. "Littlefinger needed your gold and promised my father the City Watch would back him when he pronounced to the court that he was backing Stannis for the Throne. My father could not abide the idea of Joffrey and wanted Stannis seated on the Throne. Littlefinger betrayed him, knowing that Cersei would do whatever necessary to keep her son on the throne. Of course, all this happened because Littlefinger convinced my Aunt to poison her husband. The rest, well, you know what happened to my father, Lord Tywin," Sansa's voice trailed off.

The Great Lion looked like he might be sick at how Littlefinger had played him for a fool.

"He has alliances with everyone. My mother. The Tyrells. Your daughter. He cannot be trusted, and neither can she." Sansa took a deep breath. "Stannis knows who Joffrey and Tommen are. As long as they live, your power is tenuous at best. Some would back Stannis if word spreads about Joffrey and Tommen's parentage."

Tywin wanted to be ill at the mess his children had created. He had been blind to so much.

For her part, Sansa felt for Jaime, she did. But it was so wrong what he and Cersei had done. Their actions had such enormous consequences, and now they had to deal with them. As long as Joffrey and Tommen lived, the power they commanded had a rotten base that could always be exploited.

"Even you made a deal with him, Lord Tywin, to win against Stannis the night the Blackwater burned," Sansa stated. "Which is how we find ourselves in this position. The Tyrell's want power and they will use Margaery to get it. Baelish wants power and will use anyone to get it. Your daughter wants power and will kill anyone who stands in her way. And the person you back on the Throne has no legitimacy." Sansa paused. "Worse, it is no longer a secret and can be used against us."

Tywin sunk into his seat, his mind at war with itself. Everything Sansa said was correct. Everything.

He had ignored all the signs about Joffrey's birth, Jaime and Cersei's relationship, and the fact that his daughter would be stupid enough to put her bastard son on the Throne. And it was all crumbling before his eyes.

Too many people knew who Joffrey was.

Too many secrets had been revealed.

And too many people were snatching at power.

Power Tywin had worked his entire life to have. He could see it vanishing like smoke before his eyes.

"They will never stop as long as Joffrey lives."

He grunted at that.

"And what would you have me do? Murder my grandchild? What of Stannis Baratheon?"

Sansa sighed. "You know as well as I do as long as Joffrey lives, he is a threat to all of us."

"You love my son?"

She nodded. "I do."

"You love him enough to forgive him for his sins? For fucking his sister and producing these children that now threaten you and me?"

Sansa swallowed hard and nodded. "I do."

Tywin shook his head at her.

"He doesn't deserve you," Tywin stated, still furious at these children of his.

She met his gaze. "Do you know why he killed Aerys?"

Tywin sucked in a breath and shook his head.

"The Mad King had placed caches of wildfire around the city. Under the Great Sept, in squares, beneath the Red Keep. Everywhere. When you were at the gates, he ordered them lit to burn the city to the ground. He wanted to burn women and children in their beds and homes. And he ordered Jaime to bring him your head. Burn a city to the ground, killing a million people and for a seventeen year old to kill his father." Sansa's voice broke. "Jaime made a choice. A devastating choice. My father…" Sansa's voice trailed off. She cleared it. "My father gave him that hateful name. Kingslayer. Gods, how I wish I could tell him what Jaime did, the people he saved."

Tywin's shocked eyes met hers.

"He chose you, My Lord. Over his King. He chose to save a million people, over his honour. He's a hero. And I love him. He's done vile things, cruel things, unforgivable things. But he is good. Deep down, he is good, Tywin. She treated him horribly their entire life, and he's broken free from her. But these are his children we are talking about murdering, and even though he knows it, it will pain him if they must die."

Tywin was silent, trying to absorb everything Sansa had said.

"I loved my wife; some say I loved her to distraction. She brought me nothing; no lands, no titles, no power. I married her because I loved her. And when she died…" The Great Lion paused and cleared his throat. "I've waited for years to find a woman worthy of my son. For a woman to love him the way that Joanna loved me."

His eyes collided with hers. "There is no easy path forward."

"There is not." She knew that now. What had started as a chance, a happy possibility, was now a very brutal reality. Some people would have to die. And most likely, those people would be Jaime’s children. Or child. There was no way around the threat that Joffrey posed to them all.

"Once you are married, if something were to happen to Joffrey, you two could be placed on the Throne. You bring three of the seven kingdoms. I'd bring the Westerlands and Dorne with Myrcella's marriage. That leaves only the Stormlands and the Reach."

Sansa pursed her lips. She had never set out to be Queen, but she could see why Tywin would propose such action. "And the Stormlands?"

"We offer them back to Stannis to drop his ridiculous claim to the Throne. We would have taken it by conquest, Lady Sansa. Laws of succession do not apply."

She frowned and muttered, "I never wanted this."

He barked out a harsh laugh. "You were made for this Lady Sansa."

"It will hurt him," Sansa said, her voice quiet.

Tywin nodded. He knew that. There was nothing to be done. Joffrey was a threat to them all.

When she rose to leave, Tywin called her name. She turned back.

"Take care of him."

She nodded as she met his eyes. "I will."

Jaime was waiting in the hallway for her and drew her into his arms. "I'm not leaving you tonight," he whispered into her ear, and she agreed. They slipped into her chambers and undressed, and Jaime pulled her into his arms.

"When?"

"I don't know. I'm so sorry, Jaime. There is no other way," she said brokenly, sobs coming fast and furious. He pulled her closer.

"Quiet, love. This is not on you," he whispered, resigned and heartbroken at the same time. He should never have let Cersei convince him that their secret would be safe.

"You must hate me," she cried, and he pressed his lips to her.

"Never. This is on me, Sansa." It was a heavy burden, knowing that his son had to die to keep the realm safe.

Eventually, her cries ceased, and she pressed herself closer to him.

"I love you so much, Jaime," she said, a bit brokenly.

"And I love you, little wolf."

He knew that they had to do whatever was possible to save the most amount of people. If Joffrey were dead and he and Sansa named King and Queen, there was so much they might be able to accomplish.

She kissed his neck, reaching for him, needing him.

"Sansa, are you sure?" He had wanted to couple with her since they'd first shown up here, but everything felt different here. He hated to admit how much he missed Winterfell. King’s Landing felt dangerous and dark and somewhat foreboding. They had enemies everywhere.

"I'm sure," she said and stroked him, finding him hard and ready.

He let his hand drift lower, seeking her heat, building the pleasure in her. He loved how she ached for her, how she knew what was best, but in knowing that it would hurt him, she shared his burden.

He'd told her at Winterfell before they had married that he would stay, and it had been an easy promise, outside of Cersei's influence.

But now, watching the two women, seeing how his sister didn't love him, only wanted to use him, and watching how Sansa was willing to fight for him, it was never more apparent. What he felt for Cersei paled in comparison to what he felt for his wife. For Sansa.

When she was ready, he sunk into her, telling her how strong she was and how much he loved her. He captured his name that she cried, fearful of anyone hearing them, even as he spilled deep inside her. Gods Jaime hoped she would become pregnant soon. He longed for a child that had his name and wasn’t tainted with his and Cersei’s actions.

When she cuddled into his arms afterwards, sleepily telling him about her conversation with his father, Jaime let his hand stroke her back. He wouldn't leave her, not for anything in the world.

Jaime was unsurprised when talk turned to them being named King and Queen. He'd seen that same gleam in Tyrion's eyes as he had his father's. She would be much better at it than him, but he understood it might be the only way to save the people they loved. If they ruled the realm, they could rebuild the North, save Theon, send Tommen away to be a knight as he dreamed. Perhaps Dorne would be appeased, and Myrcella happy with Trystane. Sansa could send her brother Robb North, warn Jon about the traitors at the Wall. They could do so much if it came to pass.

And still, a part of him longed to steal away in the night, and ride hard to the Rock. He wanted to see her there, large with his child. He tried to shuck off this awful responsibility and decisions making burden that was now on their shoulders.

_But what was the alternative? To not try? To let those corrupt and evil hurt those they loved?_

He knew Sansa would never stand for that, and she'd made a powerful ally in Tywin Lannister. He could well imagine his father salivating at the thought of having her as his Queen, to be the Hand he always wanted to be.

_Gods_, Jaime thought, _thinking of his father swelling with pride if a true Lannister sat on the Throne. _

He'd never, ever wanted that type of power. He'd almost run from it his entire life, and now he cradled his wife in his arms and knew she had been built for it. Sansa could be the person who brought the realm together, who brought peace, who stopped the Long Night and repelled the Dragon Queen. She would give the seven Kingdoms true, legitimate heirs and respectability. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, letting his hand rest on her stomach.

He hoped for a child. Someone that was his alone, and not with some other man's name. This madness with Cersei made even less sense being so in love with Sansa.

He knew he'd do whatever they wanted; his wife and his father. Jaime knew that they saw he could be the man he'd always denied wanting to become.

He thought perhaps he could bring something to the Iron Throne as well. He wasn't as intense as others, not as enamoured by it. He genuinely liked to see people not suffer.

It would be dangerous to be sure, taking such a step, but they had no other choice. He knew neither would be able to live with themselves if they retreated to the Rock and did nothing. He felt a calmness steal over him, knowing his path forward. There was no guarantee of success, but they had to try.

There had to be a reason, a more significant reason than just loving this woman for being sent back here. They had a chance to fix things, and even if they were destroyed in the process, they had to try. They owed it to those they loved. And if they burned and die in trying, they Jaime knew it was what was meant to be. Sansa had been born to rule the seven kingdoms and Jaime would see her there.


	5. Chapter 5

Jaime was propped up on Sansa's small bed, the picture of a wealthy lord, watching her get fitted for her wedding gown. Jaime had rarely cared what Cersei wore, but the idea of watching Sansa work with the dressmaker so she would be ready for their wedding, their second wedding, interested Jaime in a way he had never been before.

Jaime had no intention of leaving her rooms and couldn't have cared less how scandalous it was. He was afraid; after Sansa’s meeting with his Father yesterday, he knew that Cersei would be out for blood and coming for her. The only way he knew how to protect her, for now, was being by her side.

When the knock at the door came, Jaime shifted only slightly, so he could draw his sword if needed.

Jaime was a bit startled to see Tywin Lannister himself push into the small room. His Father frowned as he glanced around at the accommodations his future daughter-in-law had been given. He was muttering something about Cersei being a fool and then looked up, as if he realized Sansa was being fitted for a gown and Jaime was there - watching everything.

He sighed, a long and painful sound and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was unseemly even if they loved one another.

"Could you at least try to have some decorum. The wedding is, after all, tomorrow." His voice was dry as dust.

Jaime grinned while Sansa blushed and looked nervous. Then Jaime realized they would have no way of explaining what had happened to her if Tywin saw the marks on her back. The dressmaker had been sworn to secrecy about her scarring.

Jaime leapt to his feet.

"Sorry, Father. Just keeping my soon to be bride safe."

Tywin grimaced.

"Well, yes, be that as it may, I have something to show you." Before Jaime could protest, Tywin held up a hand. "I have the best men outside her door. No one will harm her, Jaime."

Jaime walked up to Sansa and uncaring that his Father was there, cupped her face. "Is it alright little wolf? I'll be right back."

She nodded and then kissed him. "I'll be fine." Jaime was incorrigible.

Jaime rubbed his nose against hers and watched as she smiled and giggled. Sometimes she seemed so savvy, so brilliant that he forgot she was still in her early twenties and despite what had happened to her, quite innocent. Jaime loved to see her smile and laugh.

"Alright, love. Be back soon."

When they exited her small chambers, Tyrion was waiting for them as well.

"I was given to assume this was a male bonding moment," he quipped, and Jaime laughed.

His Father's face tightened in a grimace, but for once, he held his tongue.

Jaime thought of what would happen in a few short months when Joff was poisoned, his sister accused his brother of his death, and Tyrion ended up killing their Father while he sat on the privy.

He didn't want his brother to be accused of murdering his son. And he surely didn't want his Father to sentence his brother to death. And more than anything, he didn't want his brother to kill his Father.

_Their family was so fucked_, Jaime thought idly as they walked through the Red Keep. Not for the first time, Jaime wondered how in the seven hells Sansa had fallen in love with him.

When they came to a little-used part of the Red Keep, Tywin opened the doors to one of the most beautiful set of rooms Jaime had ever seen in King’s Landing. There was a view of Blackwater Bay with huge open windows that brought only a sweet smell to the rooms and not the stench of Flea Bottom. They were furnished, and what was there, Jaime could see his Father had selected from his personal collection. There was a large, airy bedroom, a space for a nursery, a solar and a study and a dining area.

Jaime turned in wonder to his Father.

Tywin coughed.

"You and your bride deserve space, Jaime."

He swallowed hard. Without Cersei always in his face and his bed, Jaime could see just how much his Father loved him. He knew he'd always been the golden child, the one that his father put all his hopes and dreams on.

Now with marrying Sansa, he was giving his father what he'd always wanted. Jaime couldn't help but grin, thinking about the Great Lion with grandchildren. He'd spent most of his life at the Rock when Cersei had been born, and she'd been overprotective of them, keeping them in the capital.

"Thank you. Sansa will love it." Jaime knew his words were the truth. He couldn’t wait to show Sansa.

"She told me, you know." Tywin ran a hand over an elegant chair.

Jaime whipped his head around. _What had his brilliant wife done now?_

He arched an eyebrow.

Tywin grimaced. "She told me about Aerys.” Tywin practically spat the name. “She told me why you did it."

Tyrion's eyes shot back and forth between the two men.

"Hello? Did what?”

Jaime's face turned down into a grimace, and he looked at his father and his brother.

"You tell him."

Jaime turned back and looked at Blackwater Bay while he heard his Father tell Tyrion about his greatest act of heroism. It was odd listening to Tywin Lannister speak about it. Jaime could hear the hatred for the King in his Father's voice and wondered what else was between the men.

Jaime knew that Aerys had taken an interest in his mother and that the two men, alone with Steffon Baratheon, had been close as young men. Tywin's success had fueled Aerys descent into madness. The more successful that Tywin had been with his reforms, the more Aerys hated him.

_And now his daughter was out there_, Jaime thought, looking towards Essos. The dragons would be small currently, not the vast beasts that they had at Winterfell.

_How could they stop her?_ He wondered.

Jaime still remembered the fear he felt when they screeched and flew over the castle in the North.

When Tywin spoke about Jaime’s heroism, Jaime could hear the pride in his voice. His Father stalked towards him, cupping his head in his hands.

"Why didn't you tell me? Dear gods, Jaime. All those years, you let me think the worst. My son. A hero."

Jaime felt the tears well in his eyes. He shrugged. "I was a Kingslayer. I chose you over him. I broke my vows to save you and everyone else."

"The people you saved, son." Tywin shook his head.

He had been awake all night thinking what Sansa Stark had revealed to him. Tywin pulled Jaime into a rough hug. He'd begged his son to become the man he knew he could be, and now, standing in his arms, Tywin knew he was there. And Tywin suspected most of that had to do with the woman his son was in love with and set to marry tomorrow.

The woman that Tywin was determined to make Queen. He knew everything she had said yesterday was correct; Joffrey was an abomination. It pained Tywin, as he was his grandson, but he would destroy them all if he was left in his position as King.

There was hope for Tommen, Tywin had decided. He was young enough to become a Knight or sent back to Storm's End to become Lord of the Stormlands. He could be moulded and had none of Joffrey’s more disturbing qualities.

"Jaime," Tyrion said, awe in his voice.

He'd always known his brother was better than how the realm portrayed him. And now he had his proof. Tyrion had always held his brother to an impossible standard and now learning what he had, he knew he had been correct.

His brother had protected the people of King’s Landing to the detriment of his own reputation. For years.

Few men in the realm would have been able to bear the burden that Jaime had. His brother truly was the Golden Lion; the one that Tyrion had looked up to all his life and who had protected him when all others had wanted to harm him.

"And your soon to be wife? She knows?" Tyrion asked, and Jaime nodded.

"She knows everything there is about me." He let out a harsh laugh. "She loves me anyway," he said, running a hand through his hair. He shook his head as if it still stunned him that he had her love.

"She is an impressive woman, Jaime. I couldn't have chosen better for you," came Tywin's high praise.

Jaime shot him a grin. "She thinks the same of you. Never thought I'd find someone that wasn't intimidated by you."

Tywin stiffened but saw the grin on his son’s face. "Well, I admire a sharp mind."

Jaime sobered. "Once we are married, we need to go North, to meet with her brother. He needs to see that she is happy and loved. And we need to warn him. The North needs a Stark at Winterfell. Once I marry Sansa, our houses will be united."

Tywin snorted, and Jaime's eyes narrowed.

"Tell me, Father, why do you think the North built a colossal wall, 300 miles long and 700 feet high? It certainly wasn't to keep Wildings out," Jaime said in a low, intense voice.

Tywin scoffed again until he saw the seriousness in his son's eyes. "What do you know?"

Jaime paused. "The North needs to be strong. For all of us, including the Starks. Marrying Sansa gives us an immediate alliance with them. Roose Bolton's bastard son is wreaking havoc on the North, tormenting villagers and sewing fear wherever he goes. And if the North is vulnerable, it gives Stannis a pathway into Westeros. You and I both know that we will be stronger with Robb Stark back in Winterfell.”

Tywin's eyes narrowed. "And?"

Jaime huffed out an impatient breath. "My wife is of the North. There have always been stories. About the Long Night and what lives in the Lands of Always Winter."

Tywin dismissed such nonsense with a wave of his hand. "Silly stories, Jaime."

"Like dragons?"

Tywin stilled. "This is the path you want to take? You were Robb Stark's prisoner. Now you want to help the man regain his powerful foothold in the. North?" Tywin's eyes glanced at Jaime's missing hand. His eyes hardened. "I still do not trust them. Any of them.”

"Give me Littlefinger. He is the one who started all of this, between the Starks and Lannisters."

Tywin snorted. "Your sister played her part."

Jaime swallowed hard and nodded. "She did. But give me Baelish to give to Robb Stark. Let him answer to the wife and son of the man whose head he was instrumental in taking."

"And his brothels? He is a wealthy man," Tyrion stated unnecessarily.

Tywin shot him a glance. "You will take over as Master of Coin. Find out what he did when he was in that position. The Crown owes the Lannister's gold. Being at war drains coffers, but if the war of the five kings is over and we have an alliance with the North, the Crown can start to pay back our house. I want my gold, Tyrion.”

Tyrion's eyes widened, but he didn't dare argue.

"The Vale won't back Baelish. Lord Royce hates him, and Sansa has secured that the Vale knight will step in to guide her cousin,” Jaime continued.

Tywin's eyebrows raised at that. He'd heard her, of course, when she had threatened Littlefinger but it was still impressive, cutting Baelish off before he could gain a foothold there. Tywin himself had been debating sending the man to marry Lyssa Arryn, but Sansa's solution was more elegant and gave them yet another Kingdom.

"And the Riverlands? Dorne?"

Jaime sighed. "Unleashing Gregor Clegane destroyed any credibility we have with the Riverland lords. I'm sure both the Blackfish and Edmure want our heads, Father."

Tywin grunted. "We were at war." He would not apologize for any of his actions; he never had and never would. "Your wife is half Tully. If I call Gregor off, that will appease them." Tywin dismissed the monster that was Gregor easily. Powerful and successful men used what weapons they had at their disposal, and Tywin was never a man to pass up an opportunity.

Jaime didn't think it would be quite that easy, but if they could convince the North, the Vale and the Riverlands to back them, then it would go a long way to securing the seven Kingdoms.

"And the Freys?"

In Jaime’s time, everyone had heard of the Red Wedding. Everyone knew what Walder Frey was. Jaime shuddered when he recalled the man had said they were both Kingslayers as if murdering a man and his pregnant wife at a wedding feast was the same as what Jaime had done with Aerys.

Jaime had wanted to cut him down in that very instant. He hated them and knew his father did as well.

"He is a loathsome man," Jaime all but spat.

"Roslin Frey will be married to Tyrion."

Both of his sons looked at him in shocked surprise.

Tywin shrugged.

"They are a vassal house to House Tully. Marrying my second son is no slight to their house. When you ride North, you will go with Baelish and the Lannister army. Take Kevan." He met Jaime's gaze. "And you will return with a bride for your brother. If not, remind Walder Frey what happens when he angers the Great Lion."

Tywin hated the Freys, but this would be a way to tie his house to one in the Riverlands, and it would be a good match for Tyrion.

Tywin went to take his leave and turned back. "And for the love of gods, Jaime, try to be circumspect with your bride. Surely you can go without her for a single night?"

Jaime grinned and shook his head. "Surely, even you remember what it is to be in love with your wife, Father."

Tywin then did the unexpected. He threw his head back and laughed. Then he winked at his son. "She's a beautiful woman, son. I expect heirs. Soon."

Tywin paused and then spoke again. "Try to remember that women like pretty things. You're a Lannister. She should be draped in our gold."

Then he was gone, and Jaime and Tyrion were left with each other.

"Well, that was unexpected," Jaime said, seeing that Tyrion still looked shocked. "I've heard she is beautiful," Jaime said softly.

Tyrion made a small, choking sound. "I love another, Jaime."

His brother shook his head. "Tyrion, you're lucky Father hasn't had her killed already. You cannot bring a whore to court and expect Father to accept her."

Tyrion glared at his brother and stormed out of the room, leaving Jaime alone in his new rooms, which he knew his wife would love. Just thinking about her made him smile.

"Ahhh, I've missed seeing you happy, Jaime," came his sister's voice, as she wound her hands around his chest and pressed herself to him from behind.

Jaime shuddered in revulsion. He wondered when that had happened; it had been an age since they had been together in this timeline. Well before he had left for war. He unclasped her hands from around him and stepped away and watched as the anger flashed across her face at his rejection.

"Too good for me now that your precious Sansa is here," Cersei sneered. "I had you every way a woman can have a man, Jaime. I know what you need, what you like, what you crave…" she said, trying to draw him in.

He sighed and shook his head. "I'm not that man anymore, Cersei."

Her eyes flashed. "I've tasted you, loved you, fucked you when you wanted no one else. We have children, Jaime."

She let her hands rest on her stomach.

He barked out a harsh laugh. "I haven't fucked you in years. If there is a babe in there, it's not mine and we both know that."

Her eyes narrowed. "But who would believe you? If I tell your lovely wife that you've put another babe in my belly, do you think she'll still love you? Do you think she won’t turn away in revulsion?”

Jaime's eyes narrowed, and he moved closer. "Do not even dare, sister."

She hissed. "I will tell everyone that Joffrey is yours. I will destroy this family before I let you marry her and usurp our son's place on the Throne."

Jaime barked out a harsh laugh.

"I'll deny it. Him. You. I'll claim I caught you fucking one of our cousins." Her eyes widened. She never thought Jaime would have the spine to do such a thing.

Jaime leaned in. "After all, you do enjoy that, don't you sweet sister. Fucking Lannisters." Both of them knew it to be true. “I imagine there is more than one man with the same last name that we could pin Joffrey’s birth on. Then you’d just be the Queen that fucked over her husband.”

Her hand reached out and cracked him across his face. He caught it before she could connect again and bent her wrist back until he could see the pain in her eyes. Jaime had never raised a hand to his sister, but he wouldn’t let her harm him anymore.

"Do not ever threaten me, sister. Or my wife. Father will kill you and your son if you make public his true parentage.” Jaime paused. “And I will let him."

He saw the tears come to her eyes, and there was a tiny tug in a small part of his heart for what they had been. He had loved her for so long, even if she was a monster. She was his twin, his other half and he both loved and loathed her.

“You will destroy everything, Jaime. You owe your loyalty to me, to our son.”

Jaime shook his head, sadness and pity in his green eyes for all of them and the mistakes that he and Cersei had made.

"Accept it, Cersei. Father will never allow you to annihilate our family. You've lost, sister. We should never have brought them into this world."

"They are ours, Jaime. Our children." If there was one thing Jaime knew was true about Cersei, it was that she loved their children. She might never have loved him the way he had loved her, but she loved them.

Jaime shook his head. How had he not seen the madness just below the surface? She made him feel dirty and unworthy. Jaime wasn’t even sure that his sister was capable of truly loving another, beyond those that she had birthed.

His love with Cersei was so unlike what Sansa made him feel. His wife was everything that was good and pure and worthy in this wretched world. She knew his deep secrets, knew he wasn't perfect, but she helped him be better, accepted him for who he was and saw the goodness in him.

"Do you think you can keep her safe?" Cersei asked a cruel twist to her lips.

Jaime’s eyes narrowed. He’d known this was coming. He could have scripted Cersei’s reactions. Now that fooling him into believing she was pregnant with his child and appealing to his emotions as a father hadn’t worked, she would use violence. Cersei would always, Jaime knew, choose violence. Especially when threatened.

"Father already loves her, sister. Be very careful."

Jaime saw a slight fear in his sister's eyes before it was chased away. She scoffed.

"Father will always choose family over anyone else."

Jaime grinned, and it was something to behold. "Tomorrow, Sansa will be family. She'll be a Lannister." He paused. "She'll be my wife, and she will give Tywin Lannister what he has always wanted. Lions to carry on the family name, a proper wife to become Lady Lannister of Casterly Rock and a worthy successor to you.”

Cersei paled when she realized the truth and turned and stalked from the room.

Jaime scrubbed a hand down his face and sighed heavily. It was misery dealing with his family sometimes. He needed Sansa. She made him feel… clean. He was just about to turn from the window when he felt her arms and smelled her. Lemons and lavender. He sighed happily. It was incredible how different the touch of the only two women he ever loved could be.

"Hello, love," he all but murmured into the room. He turned and saw her there, smiling softly at him.

"Your Father sent me here," she told him.

He nodded and leaned down to kiss her, drawing from her goodness, chasing away the ill feelings Cersei left in him.

"What is this place?" she asked when he'd muddled her brain with his lips.

His grin widened. "Our new rooms, little wolf."

He held out an arm and waved it about. "Father felt we needed an upgrade." Jaime gave her a smirk and wiggled his eyebrows, making Sansa laugh.

Sansa's eyes widened. It was in a quiet corner of the Red Keep, tucked away so they would feel like they were almost alone. They would have no neighbours and it was an easily defensible area. She stood at the windows and looked at the Bay and then looked around, noting the furnishings and all the extra space.

The bed in their room was massive, and Jaime arched an eyebrow at her. “Care to try it out?”

"Stop, you silly goose. It's the middle of the day."

He hauled her into his arms and dropped her on the bed. "It is. And I want my wife."

"Jaime," she all but sighed his name, such love and desire in her features.

"Sansa."

He leaned down and kissed her, and then flipped up her dress. "Hold on wife, I have a need to taste you."

Sansa giggled before she moaned and let him have her way with him. She'd seen the hurt and anger and betrayal in his face when she's entered the rooms. She'd passed Cersei on the way here and knew the woman would do whatever possible to tear them apart.

She let him have her again and again, knowing he needed this connection. When he had finally worn them both out, they lay naked, entwined in each other's arms.

He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "Ready for dinner, love?"

He had a hand on her stomach and knew she must be starving.

"I am."

She watched as her happy husband started to shut down again and tilted his chin up to hers. "Don't."

"She's so vile. She wants to hurt you, Sansa. And I'm afraid she will."

"But she can't. Not unless we let her."

Jaime huffed out a breath and looked in her eyes. "She claims she's pregnant with my child."

Jaime was expecting anger, outrage and jealousy. He was not expecting his wife to laugh.

"Gods, she's an idiot," Sansa murmured and kissed his lips.

"You believe that if she is pregnant, the child wouldn’t be mine?" His eyes were wide and hopeful.

She nodded and cupped his cheek, stroking a thumb over him tenderly. "When were you last with her, Jaime?" Sansa feared Jaime had precious few tender touches in this lifetime.

He had the grace to almost blush and muttered that it was before he'd left for war. It had been years.

"There you go."

"But if she starts a rumour…"

"Then, we end them. I heard dinner tonight is quite an affair. The entire court will be there. I say we shock them, love."

He grinned and captured her lips. "Are you sure?"

She stroked his cheek. "I am a wolf. You are a lion. Let's show them, Jaime. Show them who were are. Show them who truly rules Westeros.

He hauled her to her feet. "Well, then, little wolf, let's get you dressed. We have an entire court to impresses."

Sansa was down cowering to people like Cersei and Joffrey and Littlefinger. She was not the same person she had been the last time she lived in the Red Keep and it was high time those in King's Landing knew exactly who they were dealing with. 


	6. Chapter 6

No sooner had Jaime spoken those words when servants entered their new chambers with racks of clothing, shoes, doublets, and all assortment of things from their previous rooms.

It was clear that Tywin Lannister wanted his son firmly established with his new wife, and he was wasting no time. He must have seen something in Jaime's eyes that made him realize just how far his son was willing to go to ensure his Sansa Stark was safe. And that they must look every inch the part of the new rulers of Casterly Rock.

Sansa was a bit stunned. Her time in King’s Landing before had been remarkably different than the past few days. She wouldn't say she was comfortable here, because she wasn't an idiot and knew that there were threats still to them everywhere. But having the Lannister men, _all_ the Lannister men, firmly on her side this time did provide her with some sense of security.

The handmaidens that entered her chambers were from the Westerlands, and Jaime assured her that they were loyal to his father and not Cersei. They scurried her away to get her ready for this evening. When they tried to bath her, she sent them from the room, waiting until Jaime slipped in.

She was shaking and had silent tears on her cheeks, as she sat, naked and alone in the massive tub in their room.

"I'm here love," he crooned to her, washing her back, making sure that no one but him would ever see what Ramsay had done to her. Jaime knew when she was ready, she would speak with him.

"There was one woman in the North that I trusted. She knew what he had done to me," Sansa said softly after a time, as Jaime gently washed her hair.

The oils and scents that she used were there in little bottles, and he poured them on her beautiful hair, working them into the long tresses and massaging her scalp. Jaime had made note of what she liked during their short time at Winterfell.

"I just can't let them touch me, Jaime."

Her voice hitched at the end, and once again, Jaime wished her husband were alive so he could kill him with his own hands. Then Jaime startled to realize that in this time, Ramsay Bolton was very much alive.

"I know. And that's why you have a husband, little wolf," he pressed a kiss to her neck, and she sighed and slumped into him. She turned and captured his lips.

"I'm sorry I'm so much work."

He scoffed at her and kissed her back. "Don't be silly, Sansa."

She gave him a look that said he wasn't fooling anyone. He pressed his forehead to hers.

"Do you know how rare it is that I found you? That we are in love? My whole life and I finally got what I'd always wanted and never knew I needed. You are not work, Sansa. You are my life. My breath. My heart. And I would bath you and dress you and help you every single day for the rest of your days if that is what is needed. And it will never be work, my love. Never."

The tears spilled out of her eyes. "I have no idea what I did to deserve you, but I love you, Jaime Lannister."

Sansa was the one that deserved more, of that Jaime was certain. But she was his, and he’d take care of her for as long as he was able, never denying her a single comfort.

"And I love you, Sansa Lannister."

She laughed softly. "I am."

When she rose, her husband groaned at the sight of water dripping from her body, and she winked at him, amazed that he could find her so attractive even with the marks on her body, but she knew it to be true. They had no time for bedplay now, but Sansa knew she would not sleep alone tonight. Jaime would be by her side.

Sansa chose a deep, dark red gown, almost maroon in colour for tonight. She wanted to look every inch the Lannister bride that she was.

Jaime whistled appreciatively. Her hair was long and loose; only a single braid around the crown. Compared to how other women of her station wore it, in intricate knots on their head, Jaime knew it would make Sansa stand out in the crowd. That and the colour. Never had Jaime been as fascinated with the many shades of red than he was when he was playing with his wife’s hair.

Jaime frowned when he realized what was missing. He now knew why his father had said that she needed jewels. Her neck, while elegant and gorgeous, was bare and needed something golden to adorn it.

He let his finger trail along the delicate column of her neck, utterly delighted when she shivered slightly, and he saw the flesh pebble. She was so responsive to him, despite how ill-used she had been and he loved that he was the only man whose touch she responded to in such a way.

"Jaime," her tone almost breathless as she whispered his name. Her hands, which had been helping fasten his doublet, stilled against his chest.

"I love it when you say my name like that," he told her truthfully.

Every moment with her here, in this hell, felt somehow heightened, as if their happiness and their lives could be snatched away at any second, making the time they had together all the more precious.

There was a knock at their door, and before they could respond, Tywin strode in. He found Sansa with her hands on Jaime's chest, clearly helping him dress, and his son with his hand on her throat, caressing her.

He took in Jaime's leather doublet with the golden lions and Sansa's gown of Lannister colours and nodded approvingly. They were a strikingly beautiful couple, made all the more radiant by the apparent feelings for each other. No one tonight could deny their power or their position.

Tywin clutched a small bag in his hand.

"Here." He handed the bag to Jaime. "I've waited for years to give this to you."

Then he turned and left, leaving two stunned people behind.

Jaime opened the soft cloth and out spilled a necklace. It wasn't the most expensive piece of Lannister jewelry and certainly, not the flashiest. But it was invaluable. Jaime's breath caught, and he felt the tears in his eyes.

"What is it?" Sansa asked softly.

Jaime swallowed hard and looked at her, holding the delicate necklace up. It looked almost like a woven net of the most delicate gold and was seeded with tiny rubies that glittered, giving it the appearance of twinkly lights.

"It was my mother's," Jaime said, choking on the word, fingering it. "She never took it off. I remember sitting on her lap as a child, and she'd let me play with it, running my fingers over the rubies." He shook his head. "My father would grumble because he'd bring her more expensive pieces, but she loved this one best. She told me he had it made for her when she found out she was pregnant with us."

Sansa's breath caught.

"I thought he would have melted all her jewels down, in a fit of grief or rage," Jaime said. His green eyes met hers. "Let me?"

She nodded and turned so he could fasten it around her throat. Sansa knew just how much Jaime and Tywin had both loved Joanna Lannister.

"Beautiful," he said, his fingers stroking the fine gold. He felt the lump in his throat. "I know we are out of time and have no idea why. I know it is dangerous, and we have no guarantee of survival, but this time with my father, Sansa…" his voice ended in an almost sob and she clutched him to her.

"I know. It will feel the same when I see Robb and my mother. It's why we have to try, Jaime. They are worth it."

He nodded into her neck.

When they were finally composed, he strapped his sword to his side and offered her his hand. "Shall we, wife?"

She grinned at him and bowed slightly. "We shall, husband."

Grinning at one another they left their new chambers, knowing it was time to play the game of thrones.

* * *

  
Every single Lord and Lady that was present in King’s Landing was at tonight's dinner. It wasn't every day that the two most eligible people in Westeros were getting married, and the rumours about Jaime and Sansa had spread like wildfire.

Tywin, of course, had done nothing to put them out. The more beloved his son and Sansa were, the easier seating them on the Throne would be.

When they were announced and entered the Great Hall, they almost sauntered through the room. leisurely as if they were the only ones that mattered.

Tywin smirked at their sheer arrogance of his son and watched as every single eye in the entire room was on them. He saw his beloved wife's necklace around his soon to be daughter-in-law's throat and felt a surge of approval that Jaime had understood it's meaning.

Tywin glanced at his daughter and saw her hatred for Sansa. And that worried him. Sansa had indicated that Cersei was as much to blame for their current predicament as anyone, and logically he knew that to be true. But she was his daughter, and there was a part of him, he could admit, that was reluctant to paint her with the same brush as Joffrey.

He could see the madness and arrogance in his grandson's face, but surely Cersei could be brought to heal?

His frown deepened. If the choice came down to Jaime or Cersei, Tywin knew who he would choose. He'd waited his whole life for his son to become the lion Tywin knew him to be.

Strutting through the Great Hall, parading his betrothed in front of the full court, wearing Lannister colours, Tywin had never been so proud of his son. It was more than just pride, though, Tywin could admit. His son loved the Stark woman, the way Tywin had loved Joanna. For years, Tywin had thought Jaime incapable of it; it was almost a Lannister curse. But watching them, Tywin knew that Jaime had found the same all-consuming love that Tywin had felt for his wife and that would make them all the more powerful because of their feelings for one another.

The Great Lion let his gaze slide by his daughter to watch the King. He could see his lust for Jaime's bride; it was more than evident. Joffrey didn’t even try to hide it.

Sansa had been his once, but he wouldn't have cherished her the way his son would. No, Tywin could see that he wanted to hurt her, to humiliate her. Joffrey had been the one who had her beaten in front of the whole court.

Tywin felt his rage build as he watched the King tracked her with his eyes. There was an illness to his grandson, Tywin knew. Normal men did not rape and beat and maim the way Joffrey did.

Jaime was well aware of the eyes on him and Sansa as they stopped and chatted with nobles from different houses. They had planned it this way. He knew they were both tired of being afraid; they didn't want to be reckless, but living in fear was also no longer possible. Not with what they knew and what they hoped to change.

There had to be risk for reward, and tonight was a calculated one.

Jaime knew they would draw a line in the sand tonight; there would be no going back once they all but laid down the gauntlet before Joffrey and the Tyrells. Neither Olenna nor Cersei would willingly or easily give up their claim to the Throne.

And behind it all, Tywin and Sansa and Jaime plotting to take the crown from them all. Part of Jaime ached that once again, those within his own family would be at war with one another, but it could not be helped. Jaime knew exactly what his sister would do in order to retain power.

House Tyrell was acting unimpressed, but Jaime saw through their ruse. Even though Margaery sat beside the King, she looked cheap and almost whorish in her dress that showed too much flesh. Compared to Sansa, she looked like the daughter of a farmer and not the future Queen.

That honour was reserved for Sansa alone, and every single person in the Great Hall could see it. His wife was radiant.

Jaime stopped at one point and drugged her closer to him, nuzzling at her neck and being openly being affection with her in front of everyone.

"Alright, little wolf?" he whispered into his ear.

She turned and brushed her lips across his. "Perfect, husband."

_Gods_, Jaime thought. That word, from her lips. Husband. Her possessive love of him, it warmed him, made him stand taller, made him want to cut down any man who dared to hurt her. Who would have ever known how much happiness he would find being married.

Jaime stole one last kiss, and then the games began in earnest.

"Lady Margaery," Sansa said, turning and giving her former friend a cold, fake smile as Margaery had left her seat on the dais to approach them.

"Lady Sansa, allow me to offer my congratulations on your upcoming marriage," Margaery simpered, the anger visible in her face, though it was hidden behind a smirk.

Sansa gave a brilliant smile and turned to Jaime. "Yes, I am quite happy." She took a hand and cupped his handsome face, stroking a thumb over his cheekbone and laughed when he wiggled an eyebrow.

She loved him so much, her heart ached.

"Yes, well, we can all see that," Olenna practically sneered. "The way you two carry on, a blind person could practically see you pawing each other." Her disdain was more than evident.

Sansa laughed. "Yes, he is quite handsome, my soon to be husband. I just can’t help myself.”

Jaime turned his head slightly and nipped at his finger, before drawing the tip into his mouth and sucking. Sansa's blue eyes darkened in desire.

Olenna rolled her eyes, and Mace looked flushed. Margaery looked…jealous.

As if just realizing her friend was without the King, Sansa's eyes went wide. "And where is your betrothed Lady Margaery? I would think he couldn't leave your side. Jaime never lets me go anywhere without assuring I am safe."

Her husband rumbled out a chuckle. "I just can't get enough of her," he said, grinning widely. "Joffrey must feel the same about you, Lady Margaery. That is quite the gown you're wearing." He made it sound like anything but a compliment.

Margaery's face soured as she looked around for the King. She spotted him and sent him a small wave, but he had an irritated look on his face, and Cersei was in his ear. Margaery frowned. There was no escaping from his mother when she had him in his clutches.

"You should be embarrassed, carrying on in such a manner," Olenna disparaged them.

"Oh, do shut the fuck up," Jaime said dismissively. "We all know where she's been." He flicked his eyes to Margaery, and before anyone could react, took Sansa's hand. "Come, my love, let's find my father."

Jaime was tired of bowing to the Tyrells. They were nothing - a vassal house that had usurped their liege lords. Farmers and ranchers from fertile land to be sure but aiming well above their station as far as he could ascertain. It was time they were reminded of exactly what they were and their place. He hated that they had been forced into some type of alliance with them, and all due to Littlefinger and his manipulations.

"We are in an alliance, Ser Jaime," Mace sputtered.

Jaime stopped, and all eyes were riveted to him. He stalked back and pointed to his wife. No one missed what he was about to say.

"That is my alliance. The North and the Westerlands. The Riverlands and the Vale. My wife is more connected than your daughter could ever hope to be." Jaime leaned in closer. "Tell me, Mace, can the Reach afford to anger four of the seven Kingdoms?"

The fat man went pale and shook his head while Olenna thundered in outraged protest. No one talked to her family like that and got away with it.

Then Jaime grabbed his wife and almost stalked through the room, finding himself at the head table where his family waited.

Tywin looked suitably impressed and gave Jaime a slight nod and a smirk.

Cersei looked positively livid.

Tyrion was almost howling in glee. He'd never seen anything quite like that before. His brother was taking King’s Landing by storm.

"Don't piss off the lions and the wolves," Tyrion stated, drinking down his wine and saluting Jaime.

"Uncle, what was that?"

Jaime sighed upon hearing Joffrey's whiny, high pitched voice. It reeked of disapproval, which Jaime had no patience for. The King was his son for fuck sakes. He would not be talked down to by his flesh and blood, regardless if Joff didn't know who he was.

Jaime was sick of all of it; nobles and lords bowing to whomever was King because of the chair they sat in.

Joffrey wasn’t the first King to misuse his power. He was a bully, and a tyrant and Jaime hated him at that moment, for every cruel thing he'd done, every stupid mistake he'd made.

He whirled on his son and his green eyes narrowed dangerously. Before he could say a word, the King spoke again.

"That is my future wife and her family. You'd be wise not to anger me, Uncle," Joff said, his eyes sliding past Jaime and landing on Sansa. "I am the King. I can have anyone punished. Even family."

Tywin barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes at his grandson and his poor attempt to regain some of the power that Jaime had stolen from him.

Jaime was done. He would not be afraid of his son, King or not. Not in this lifetime and not with the woman he loved that he vowed to protect in the King’s crosshairs.

Jaime stalked up to him and leaned in, satisfied to see the small flare of fear in his son's eyes as he came closer.

"Either call me out or shut the fuck up, Your Grace. I'm hungry, and so is my wife."

Joffrey's eyes went positively gleeful, and Jaime knew he'd fucked up by calling Sansa his wife before they were married in this time. He would have groaned, but he needed to get things back under control. Fast.

"Tell me, Uncle, have you fucked her? Is she not pure? I can't allow a Lannister to marry a sullied woman. We all know Lady Sansa is not your wife. Not yet and perhaps not ever."

Jaime felt his stomach drop as Joffrey almost salivated at that thought.

"I can call for a Maester to examine her. And of course, I'd need to be present,” Joffrey continued, failing to see Jaime’s growing disgust and anger.

Cersei looked overjoyed at the possibility as if she knew where Jaime had spent his night. Proving that Sansa was no maiden would send this entire façade into chaos.

Sansa felt her stomach clench. She would never allow someone other than her husband to touch her. Never again.

Jaime was beyond enraged. He had half a mind to cut Joffrey down where he stood, gleaming and panting at the chance to examine his wife in such a manner. No man would ever touch her again with his permission.

"No one will fucking touch her," Jaime said tightly, but before Jaime knew what was happening, Joffrey called for his two most vicious Kingsguard, Blount and Trant to take her away to be examined.

Jaime saw red.

Sansa froze, and Jaime knew these two had been responsible for some of her torment. As they approached, Jaime pulled his sword and twirled it in his left hand, causally and if he did this every night at dinner.

Everyone's eyes widened, including Tywin’s. No one had expected him to be proficient with his other hand. Jaime knew they had seen him as weak and unable to defend his bride.

Joff's eyes widened at the Golden Lion’s daring, and Jaime grinned before he turned and faced the two men. Considering he'd killed hundreds of wights a few days ago, this was child's play.

He looked like the Jaime he used to be; the Golden Lion and the best swordsman in the realm. While he wasn't quite at the same level he had once been, compared to Trant and Blount, he was Arthur Dayne reincarnated.

He cut both men down, barely breaking a sweat. He felt nothing but satisfaction at being the man who finally killed but a few of his wife's tormentors.

He took his sword and pointed it at the King. It was dripping in blood.

"Do not ever threaten my wife or me again, Your Grace."

"She's still a whore," Joffrey said, loudly. "Bedding her out of wedlock, Ser Jaime makes her one…" Joffrey let his voice trail off and the implied threat hand in the air.

Jaime stilled and looked to Sansa, who nodded.

"We married three days ago in the small godswood," Jaime said, seeing the King pale and blanch.

Cersei let out a pained moaned.

The court gasped.

"No. That's impossible." Joffrey looked shocked. He was shaking his head.

"It's true. I was there."

Tyrion.

Jaime almost let his shoulder droop in relief. His little brother who always had his back.

"Liar, you vile little creature," Joffrey sneered, looking at Tyrion who shrugged, unconcerned.

Then another voice.

"As was I, Your Grace. Do you presume to call me one as well?"

The Great Lion had stood and spoken, and everyone in the hall had heard his words. He was a force that no one, not even the King, would challenge.

"My _wife_," Jaime said, emphasizing the word, "Wanted a small ceremony in the Northern way, before we were married in the Great Sept." Jaime stalked closer to the King, his sword still dripping blood. "I believe threatening a man's wife is a punishable offence. Even for a King."

Joffrey's eyes widened as his own words were twisted back on him, and Jaime's heart broke. His son was a fucking sick man, and Jaime knew that he could never be allowed to live. He would always, _always _be a threat to his wife.

And Jaime would always choose Sansa.

Joffrey swallowed hard. The entire hall had been transfixed by the whole exchange, not to mention Jaime Lannister's prowess with a sword. The Golden Lion was back, and everyone knew it.

When Jaime sheathed his sword, he grabbed his wife's hand and cupped her cheek and kissed her. In front of the entire court of King’s Landing.

"Alright?" he asked her gently, and she smiled.

Two of her tormentors were dead at her husband's hand.

"I love you, Jaime Lannister."

He winked. "And I love you, Sansa Lannister."

His voice carried, so everyone knew she was his wife and that he loved her and she him. Then they took their seats at the head table as if the entire realm hadn't just witnessed the most scandalous event in an age.

Tywin let out a pained breath when they were seated.

"Well, that was a fucking spectacle," Tywin said in a low sotto voice to Jaime, anger lacing each word. "Is there any possible way that can get through your marriage tomorrow without bringing the Kingdom down around you?"

Jaime snorted and took a gulp of wine, looking unconcerned and effortlessly handsome. And every inch the lion he was. The realm was not prepared for such a sight, that much was more than apparent.

“I can try, father.”

Tywin snorted at the insincerity in Jaime’s voice.

Sansa leaned in, ready to defend Jaime as he had her. "Lord Tywin, every single person will be talking about this. Jaime was more a King today than Joffrey has ever been." Jaime beamed at her, which had Tywin shaking his head.

Tywin arched an eyebrow at her, letting his gaze linger on the necklace. Then he sighed.

"Even so, Lady Sansa. Lannister's do not act like fools."

She stiffened and reached for Jaime's hand, joining them together and making them a unit.

_Gods_, Tywin thought, _they really did love each other beyond all measure. _So passionate and ready to defend each other against all others.

"He was not a fool, Tywin. He was defending me. Those men beat me at Joffrey's orders. Trant wanted to rape me." Sansa was enraged and her blue eyes were sparkling. _She was magnificent_, was all that Tywin could think.

"The lion does not concern himself with the opinion of the sheep, Father," Jaime said, his green eyes almost cold as if he would strike at Tywin himself if he made his wife uncomfortable. Jaime made a vague gesture to those around them. He leaned into to Tywin.

"They are sheep, and you know it as well as I do. They will follow whoever is strongest, boldest. The most daring. We have given Cersei and Joffrey too much power, Father, and you know it as well as I."

Tywin sighed, impressed once again with his son. He was every inch the Lannister Lord Tywin needed him to be.

Tywin knew he needed a plan for the King, and he needed it tonight; the little bastard would destroy his House, and Tywin would never allow that to happen. He cursed his daughter for birthing him and not giving Robert at least one legitimate child. This was a fucking mess.

Dinner was a tense affair. The bodies of the two Kingsguard had been cleared away, but their blood still smeared the stone floor.

It seemed not to affect Jaime and Sansa at all. They chatted and ate, laughing with Tyrion and bringing Tywin into the conversation. Sansa was an engaging conversationalist, and Jaime smiled the entire evening broadly. When the meal had been cleared, and the music began, Jaime pulled Sansa to her feet.

He cared not what the lords and ladies of the court thought.

"Jaime," she murmured into his ear.

"Indulge me, wife," he said. "I want everyone to see how much I love you."

She wanted to roll her eyes but didn't. It was sweet and loving, even though everyone already knew. It was clear theirs was a love match.

He knew that they would have to do this again tomorrow, and he found he didn't care as long as everyone could see that she was his. She was powerless to say no and let him take her in his arms. He let his mouth settle against her ear.

"I saw red, tonight, love when those men came for you. I'm sorry if I scared you," Jaime said, and she shook her head.

"Gods, no. They were some of my worst tormentors, Jaime. Trant… he was evil." She shuddered slightly, and he held her closer.

"Never again, love."

Jaime was as light on his feet, dancing as he was fighting. He let his eyes wander over the room, landing on Cersei. He had never seen her so furious. She had her eyes locked on Sansa, and he held his wife closer but didn't stop touching her. Eventually, the music stopped, and his father was there.

Jaime handed her over the Great Lion, seeing that Petyr Baelish had been walking towards them. He saw that Sansa was comfortable with his father and went to stand at the edge of the floor, keeping a watchful eye on those who might harm her.

Sansa settled in Tywin's arms comfortably. He was slightly taller than Jaime, and he smelled similar. She let herself relax. He had never physically harmed her, even if he had intimidated her last time she was here.

"Thank you for the necklace, Tywin," she said softly and felt him stiffen slightly.

His gold-green eyes met hers, and she thought he would say nothing.

"I never thought there would be another woman worthy of it."

He guided her effortlessly around the dance floor. It had been years since he'd allowed himself even this indulgence with a highborn woman. He knew that the Lannister's would be the talk of Westeros.

She took the compliment for what it was.

"Will your family support your marriage, Sansa?"

She nodded. Then he saw her face harden.

"They have too. My brother has problems in the North. He's lost half his army and has angered the Freys. He has traitors in his midst."

Tywin arched an eyebrow at her concise summary of her brother's predicament.

"It's all because of Baelish," she all but hissed, her voice filled with disgust and anger.

Tywin caught the whoremonger's hungry gaze at the woman in his arms. It chilled him to see Baelish look at her like that.

"Jaime has requested you take Baelish North and give him to your brother. Do you have any concerns about that arrangement?"

She sighed. "I dislike him so close to my mother. She cannot see him for what he is. But I trust Robb to do the right thing."

Gods, it had been an age since a woman had intrigued him like her, matched wits with him and been so pragmatic. He glanced at his son and wondered if he knew he had his hand on the pommel of his sword. He was so protective of her, and Tywin was propelled back in time to when he would have done whatever necessary to protect what was his. He also had a mad king that had wanted his wife. He had seen the same lust in Aerys' eyes as he saw in Joffrey's. And the results of Aerys' obsession with Joanna had been devastating as Tywin let his eyes slide to his youngest son.

When the music stopped again, Jaime was there immediately. He'd allow no one else to touch her and nodded to his father.

Tywin stopped them before they left.

"I understand the feelings you two have for one another. But we must be smart, Jaime."

His son nodded. "Thank you. For earlier."

Tywin gave him a curt nod.

"Jaime, someday you will tell me how you came to be almost as proficient with your left hand as you were with your sword hand."

Jaime threw back his head and laughed. "Practice."

Then he winked at his father, leaving the Great Lion stunned at the edge of the dance floor.

As Tywin watched Jaime and Sansa leave to find Tyrion, he felt the pride well in his chest for his firstborn son. He was suddenly everything Tywin had ever wanted and known he could be.

Tyrion was deep into his cups. He, too, had watched his brother this evening. He'd never seen Jaime act so much like the Golden Lion he had been raised to be. He was almost a changed man with his wife by his side.

Tyrion knew, without a doubt, that he would kill Joffrey or Cersei if they harmed a single hair on her beautiful head. And who could blame him? She was a stunning woman; intelligent, loyal, loving. He almost snorted at the thought that his father had first proposed marriage between him and her. It would have been laughable if he hadn't seen just how much his brother loved her.

Watching Jaime swagger into the Hall, Sansa Stark at his side, Tyrion knew it would only be a matter of months before they would be crowned the new King and Queen of Westeros. He would do whatever he could to see them there.

Tyrion let his eyes drift over the room. Varys seemed intrigued by her. Baelish was positively salivating. Olenna looked like she wanted to be ill. Margaery and Cersei were competing for who was the most jealous.

Cersei had never truly loved Jaime, no matter what she claimed, in Tyrion's opinion. Even if she did think it was love, it was twisted and warped, and nothing compared to what Jaime now had. She was dangerous, Tyrion knew. Along with Joffrey.

Tyrion's eyes swung to the King again.

He looked livid, and his eyes were flashing dangerously. Tyrion thanked the gods. His father seemed to see it as well.

That was almost the most shocking event of the evening - to see Tywin dance with Sansa. Tyrion had never seen that before. Ever. He knew he should be jealous; Jaime was doing everything that a golden son of Tywin Lannister was expected to do.

But for once, Tyrion was merely happy for his brother. Knowing what he had been through with Aerys, what Jaime had done, how many people he had saved, warmed something in Tyrion. He knew he had always held his brother to an impossible standard. It had almost broken his heart when Jaime had been named a Kingslayer. To find out that he wasn't, restored something in Tyrion.

"Thank you," came Jaime's voice when he had gotten close to his brother.

Tyrion tipped his goblet to them. "Any day, brother."

Jaime swallowed hard and saw the truth in his little brother's eyes. They had always been close, and it had killed a part of him to see his family so at war last time. Perhaps he could prevent Tyrion and Tywin from their previous fate. Jaime knew it had taken courage for Tyrion to stand up for them like that, and Tywin seemed less angry with his second son these past few days.

"I will see you both tomorrow. For your second wedding." Tyrion let a small smile loose, but not a wink. No, he would play this charade out until the day he died.

Sansa leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to his scarred cheek. "You're a good man, Tyrion."

He blushed and waved them away, watching as Jaime kept her tucked so close to him it was almost impossible to tell where one began and then other started. After they had taken their leave, Tyrion let his gaze once again settle on his sister and her vile son. He was so caught up in them; he barely registered that his father was there, looming over him.

Tyrion glanced up, prepared to see the typical hate and disgust in the Great Lion's eyes. Instead, there was a look of begrudging pride. "What you did for him tonight."

Tyrion nodded, and that was all. Tywin stalked away, but a warmth settled deep in Tyrion's chest that had nothing to do with the wine he had consumed and everything to do with this new dynamic in the Lannister family.


	7. Chapter 7

Jaime somehow got him and Sansa back to their rooms without encountering any more problems along the way.

He was sure that he'd pissed off the entire Reach tonight.

Cersei looked like if she had a dagger, she would have slit his wife's throat.

And Joffrey wanted to rape and maim his wife.

At least his brother and his father had backed his ridiculous story tonight about them marrying in the Kings Landing godswood. His blood turned to ice when he thought about what his son might have done to Sansa if he couldn't have come up with an adequate explanation.

All Jaime knew was that he would kill anyone who touched her. Anyone. Including his son, who at twenty should be over such rebellion and settling into his reign.

_What the fuck was wrong with Joffrey that he wanted to rape Sansa? _Jaime thought, disgust roiling in his stomach.

When they were finally safe in their rooms, Jaime threw the bolt on the door and almost collapsed in relief.

Sansa wound herself around him and kissed him. Passionately. She pushed him back towards their bedroom.

"Clothes off, now, husband," Sansa practically ordered, a gleam in her eyes.

He arched an eyebrow and started pulling at the buckles on his doublet. He was not a man to deny Sansa anything, including himself.

"Jaime, what you did for me tonight. For us." She shook her head in wonder. He was a force. And he was hers. No one had ever, ever stood up to Joffrey like that for her.

She almost tore at his doublet, and he shucked it off, grabbing at her lace gown. They panted and tugged at each other until they were naked, and Sansa pushed him down on the bed, climbing on top of him. Her hand found his hard cock and she stroked him, while Jaime swiped at hand through her core, finding her weepy and ready for him.

"Hold on, husband," she said, and he grinned, watching as his wife sunk on top him. When she leaned down to kiss him, her breasts were close to his mouth, and Jaime sucked on her little peaks and watching her eyes darken in desire. He loved making the little buds even harder, tiny jewels for his mouth only as he laved at her, making her moan.

"Jaime," she arched over him. He drug her lip back down to his and nipped at her until she opened, and his tongue was in her mouth, thrusting in time with his cock that was deep inside her.

"Please," she begged after a time, her need overwhelming her.

"My beautiful wife," he murmured and rubbed at her nub until she screamed and peaked on him. They had no reason to be quiet; their rooms were far from anyone, and the entire realm believed them to be married. He flipped her over and leaned down to kiss her neck, tugging on her ear.

"Can you go again, my little wolf?" He was still as hard as could be, dragging himself in and out of her warm center, feeling her tighten on him again and again.

"Yes," she said breathlessly as he surged into her again.

“Gods, Sansa,” Jaime grunted, overcome by his desire for her.

"Jaime," she said and carded her hands through his hair, their eyes locked on each other as if there was no one else in the entire world but them.

His face was tight with desire, and he was thrusting erratically. "Fuck, I love you so much, Sansa."

He felt her squeeze on him, and he just about lost it at that moment, but he wanted to hear her say his name like that again.

"More love, more," he commanded and brought his hand down to find her little nub until she was able to scream his name again, and he finally let himself go, spilling deep inside her, filling her with his seed. Panting, Jaime pulled her to his chest, where she splayed herself across him, both of them breathless and undone by their coupling.

He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "Gods, what you do to me."

She grinned and perched herself up on him, her long red hair tickling his chest and falling around them, giving them a sense of total privacy. Jaime loved it when she was in a playful mood.

"I can't believe it can be like this," she said and kissed him again, softly and lovingly. "You're everything to me."

"And you are everything to me. And tomorrow you'll be my wife. Again." He was smiling and tracing patterns on her back with his hand. "Sleep now," he told her.

They would have another hellish day tomorrow, but at least they would be married in this timeline for real. It would be noted in the Citadel and read for years to come. Sansa Stark would be his wife and the entire realm would know. He let his thoughts drift to the North, meeting with her mother and her brother.

Catelyn Stark hated him for a good reason. He had no idea how they might convince her that they'd married for love. And that Baelish was a threat. He knew that Stark woman had a blind spot for the whoremonger and that Littlefinger was a slippery bastard.

But as his wife shifted and sighed, her scent invading his senses, Jaime realized that was a problem for another day. Tonight, he has his father and brother on his side and the woman he loved in his arms.

* * *

Jaime had been awake for hours, watching his wife sleep. He had stared in wonder at her presence in his life and spent the early morning hours coming to terms with the hard truths that were right in front of him.

People he loved, people in his family wanted to hurt her. And unless he stopped them, they would. It was as simple and as brutal and as painful as that.

Cersei and Joffrey would hurt her. One day. It wasn't a question of if, but when.

Cersei had demanded he track Sansa down when she had escaped from Kings Landing after Joffrey's death and bring her Sansa's head. She would require the same now, Jaime was sure. The two women could not co-exist in this world. His sister would never allow Sansa to become Queen, and she would never stand by and watch as Jaime and Tywin, and Tyrion all backed her. He knew this. And it threatened to break him.

Jaime wasn't in love with Cersei, not the way he loved Sansa. What he had with Sansa was good and consuming and right.

But Cersei was his twin, and they had shared so much in this lifetime, that knowing she had to die made his heartache. Jaime had tried to work out dozens of scenarios in which she could come to accept Sansa.

And there wasn't a single one.

There was no one to marry her to, no place to send her, nowhere she wouldn't fight and fuck and kill to gain power back.

Cersei had watched three children die to sit on the Iron Throne.

She'd survived their father's death, demanded their brother's head and sent a man to kill him for betraying her. There was nothing she would not do to be in control.

When she discovered that they were planning on taking the Throne from Joffrey by right of conquest, or however his father might work it out, it would tip her over the tiny ledge of sanity that he was sure she was clinging to, even now.

Because more than anything, Jaime could see that there was something not quite right with her.

He'd never lie to himself and say that he hadn't been a willing participant in their bed play, because he had. But he had loved her, and he had fooled himself into thinking she had loved him back. Perhaps she had, in whatever way she was capable of, but Jaime could see now it wasn’t enough.

It had always been about control with her, and when their father married her to Robert Baratheon, she had lost much of her control, until she had figured out how to wrest it back from her husband; by cuckolding him and putting another man's children on the Throne. Jaime’s children. In doing so, she had damned them all.

It was almost inconceivable that Jaime would even consider such an action against her, but he knew what she was capable of, and he'd taken vows.

Vows to Sansa, who had trusted him and loved him. A woman who had welcomed her into her bed and body. Who might, even know, be carrying his child. Vows to a wife that he loved. Vows that he had no intention of ever breaking. The promises he'd made to Sansa trumped all others in his life.

The other massive problem was his son. His cruel, mad, vicious son, who even last night threatened Sansa. No one could miss the King's lust-filled gazes at her, and Jaime himself had kissed the thin white scars on her back that Joffrey had ordered to be put there.

Joffrey was sick and demented, and there was only one solution for him. The King had to die. His son had to die. Jaime hoped by making that choice that somehow he might save Tommen and Myrcella. They were true innocents; loving and kind and good. So unlike Joffrey that they could hardly even be considered siblings.

It pained him to lay in his bed, with his wife in his arms, and know that both Cersei and Joffrey would have to die.

The man he had been would not have been able to see that truth; he would have fought and railed against it and done everything in his power to stop it.

But he was not that man anymore, and he had a responsibility to the woman in his arms and any children they might have to protect her and them.

He thought of his father and the choices he had made. So many horrible decisions that had to earn him the fear of the realm.

Sending Gregor Clegane after Elia and her two children. A brutal and savage choice but seeing and knowing first-hand what the blood of the dragon could produce, one that Jaime could understand. Jaime would have done it cleaner, more elegantly, but he understood.

Jaime could even understand why his father had orchestrated Robb Stark's deaths previously. Horrid yes. But twenty dead versus ten thousand and Tywin's reasoning seemed logical.

Still, in the end, his father had been shot by his son on the privy, so things hadn't always worked out for the Great Lion.

Jaime, though, had come to respect the choices his father made. Even if they were the wrong ones, he was willing to do whatever he must for their house to survive.

Thinking that Sansa might carry the next Lannister, his son or daughter, Jaime finally understood. He had a wife he loved and needed protection, and potentially children on the way- children he would do anything to protect. Jaime knew now why his father had done what he had. He was lost in his thoughts when he felt her hand stroke his cheek.

"Leave it for today, love," she said softly. She knew they always had to play the game of thrones, but for now, she wanted him to have a little happiness with her husband.

He gave her a sad little smile. What he wouldn't do to be able to marry her today and leave for Casterly Rock tomorrow. Or the North. Or anywhere. Anywhere away from his sister and his son. Somewhere, where fear for her safety didn't threaten to cripple him, stealing away the one person who made him happy.

"Happy second wedding day, wife."

As Jaime said it, he realized it was the truth. He was happy to marry her again, in front of all of Westeros, his father and his brother. He loved both of them, and even though Tyrion had been at Winterfell a few days ago, their relationship had changed so much after his brother had killed their father. Now, here, it wasn’t so fraught.

Sansa saw the conflict in him and knew there was little she could do to help, other than support him. It would be the same when they rode North to see Robb and her mother.

Catelyn hated Jaime. Robb hated Jaime. And her showing up, professing her love and devotion to him, well, Sansa had her worries.

She also had her problems with Robb's marriage to a foreigner, leading to the entire situation with the Frey's in the first place, giving Tywin something to use against him. He might be an excellent military commander, but her brother did not have the political knowledge to play the game of thrones as Sansa did.

These lions had raised her; Cersei and Petyr had taught her brutal lessons. Thinking of Petyr made her think about their upcoming meeting. She needed Lord Royce and Lyssa there to confirm what happened to John Arryn and take control of the Vale fully with Royce as loyal to her.

"What is that mind thinking?" Jaime murmured into her ear, kissing her neck softly. "It's a wonder to me, love."

She turned and smiled at him, pushing those thoughts aside for today. Today she got to marry the man she loved again. It seemed impossible that they had done this at Winterfell only a few days ago. And then faced the Night King and now were somehow back in their former lives. Sansa remembered her last wedding to a Lannister. She had been alone, scared and vulnerable. Now she had Jaime.

She turned her lips, so they captured his and let herself sink into the kiss. "Just that I'm happy to marry you again, Jaime."

His eyes lightened, and he was just about to deepen the kiss when the pounding at the door came. Groaning Jaime rolled off of her, dragged on a breeches and strode to open their door. Tyrion stood there. Grinning at the half-naked state of his brother.

"You don't even have to try, do you?" Tyrion said, staring at his brother, who looked every inch a King that had just been interrupted in his favourite pursuit of bedding his queen. Shaking his head, Tyrion gave Jaime a look.

"While we all know you are already married," he paused and gave his brother a look, who at least had the decency to look partially chagrined, "Father insists you two are separated until the wedding." Tyrion held up a hand. "It is only a few hours away. I will stay in Lady Sansa's outer chambers to ensure nothing happens to her Jaime. I promise."

Sansa had emerged from their bedroom and looked between the two.

"It's alright, Jaime. I'll be safe."

Her husband leaned in and pulled her close.

"Father has his most loyal guards outside her door, Jaime. And no one doubts for a second what might happen to them should any harm befall her. That was quite the display yesterday," Tyrion added.

Jaime had drawn Sansa back into his arms. "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "Go and be with your father. I'll see you in the Sept, Jaime."

Jaime consented and gathered his clothing. Before he left, he kissed her long and hard. "Soon, little wolf. Then everyone here will know you are mine as well." He gave her one last lingering look before he was gone.

When Sansa and Tyrion were alone, the dwarf made his way to a table and sat down to break his fast. He gestured to the chair across from him.

"Sit and eat, sister. It's a long day ahead of you."

Sansa stiffened, and he waved a hand. "Not marrying my brother. Putting up with all those who would like to put a knife in your back."

Her eyes narrowed. "Are you one of those people, Lord Tyrion?"

He shook his head, shovelling food in. "Eat. Please." He gave her a look and gentled his tone. "Jaime will be upset if you don't eat, Sansa."

She nodded and dug in, cocking her head in curiosity at the dwarf.

"This doesn't upset you? Our marriage?"

He shook his head. "No. If anything, it makes things easier."

She arched an eyebrow and Tyrion sat back.

"Before you two, there was no one else to replace Joffrey. Part of me was shocked that my father agreed to an alliance with the Tyrell's in the first place. But everyone knows you can't win a war on two fronts, let alone three. Fighting your brother in the Riverlands and Stannis in the Crownlands was too much even for my father's mighty army."

Tyrion shrugged and chewed contemplatively.

"Now that we are starting to know the extent of Littlefinger's and Cersei's manipulations, I cannot, in any scenario, see my father allowing that whorish Tyrell woman to get a single finger on the Throne. But what was his play? Tommen?" Tyrion scoffed.

Then he pointed the finger at you. "With Jaime back and the two of you in love, well." He laughed. "Gods, it is everything my father could have possibly wanted. There isn't a woman in the realm that is more suitable for the Great Lion's golden son."

"We love each other."

Tyrion's face softened. "And thank the seven fucking gods for that, Sansa. He deserves it, and so do you."

Sansa could see that Tyrion meant every word. She rose to begin to get ready for her day, nodding to the one handmaiden that Jaime said she could trust.

When she emerged, the dark blue grown was resplendent on her, and Tyrion's eyes widened. "Gods, I can already see the crown on your head."

Shaking himself, he hopped off his seat, taking her in wholly. She was every inch a Northern Princess with the dark blue gown and long, red hair flowing down her back. She'd eschewed every southern tradition, and Tyrion couldn't help but grin.

The knock at the door revealed Tywin Lannister, and he stopped to stare at his son's betrothed.

Then his eyes fell on Tyrion. "Go and be with your brother."

Tyrion nodded and squeezed Sansa's hand and then was gone. When it was just Sansa and Tywin, he arched an eyebrow.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say this was your way of protesting marrying my son."

She threw back her head and laughed, and Tywin was delighted by her. It had been an age since he'd heard such a sound. "Just reminding them what I bring to this marriage. I will not hide who or what I am, Lord Tywin."

"No. That would be unwise, especially if we seek an alliance with the North after we have been at war. Well done."

Then he opened the soft velvet box in his hand, revealing a stunning necklace with the largest ruby Sansa had ever seen and more diamonds than she could count.

"The Lannister choker," she all but breathed. It was a legendary piece of jewelry.

"Beloved Lannister brides wear it on their wedding day, my dear. And we both know you are most beloved. Allow me?"

She nodded, and Tywin brushed her hair back from her neck, frowning at the scars he saw on her upper back. He said nothing, but his mouth thinned. He assumed they were from his grandson, and Sansa did not dissuade him of the notion. When the necklace has been fastened, he stepped back slightly and coughed.

"I am sorry your father is not here to bring you to Jaime. I hope you know that had I been in the Capital, he would not have lost his head that day."

Sansa nodded. She had to remember that this Tywin had not ordered the deaths of her brother and mother. While he was certainly capable of it, that had not happened.

"I know," she said softly.

"If you will allow me to take his place, I would be honoured to bring you to Jaime."

Sansa met his eyes and saw a flash of uncertainty.

She gave him a soft smile. "I'd like that, Tywin."

When she reached for the grey cloak with the direwolf, she handed it to him. "Will you?"

He nodded and fastened it around her shoulders.

"I couldn't have picked a better match for my son." Their eyes locked, and she saw the deep love he had for Jaime. He might be a monster, a man capable of incomprehensible cruelty, but he was also a father. And he loved his son.

"I'm glad he has you,” Tywin stated softly.

As if he was embarrassed by the compliment, he stepped back and offered her his arm.

She had been all alone when she had wed Tyrion, scared and lonely, and afraid of everything. This wedding was so different as she took Tywin's arm. He would keep her safe until she was with Jaime. It was fascinating to make their way to the Sept of Baelor. People fairly scurried out of his way, his presence so dominating and fearsome, although they craned their necks to look at her.

"We will need to talk; to plan, Lady Sansa. Not today, but in the coming ones. There is so much in flux right now."

She murmured her assent and kept herself focused on getting to Jaime. Her and Tywin stopped outside the doors to the Great Sept of Baelor, allowing the Grand Septon to finish reciting his prayers before Tywin nodded, and the large doors were opened, and they walked inside.

Every single eye was on her, noting her gown, her hair and her jewelry.

But Sansa had eyes for Jaime only.

He stood at the front of the Sept, at the top of the stairs, the sun turning his hair into a golden crown. His green eyes danced in joy and love as he caught sight of her, and she saw the brilliant smile break out on his face. He's chosen red today, as he had a few days past in Winterfell, and she grinned at the sight he made.

The Golden Lion.

Hers.

When she reached him, Jaime clasped hands with his father, who willingly handed Sansa over. He saw the love and pride in his father's eyes and gave him a slight cock of his head, which Tywin returned. He'd waited for an age for this day, and as the Great Lion stepped down, Tywin gazed upon the two before him. They were the future of his house, and he knew, at that moment, his legacy was secure.

"Alright, little wolf?" Jaime whispered the words in her ear.

"Yes," she said, letting him see the truth in her eyes.

She smiled for him when the Septon told Jaime to cloak her in Lannister red. She felt it settle on her shoulders, and it was like a warm caress and not a weight on her shoulders. For Jaime, she was happy to become a Lannister.

They held hands and wrapped the ribbon that would bind them together. She was thrilled when the entire court was told that nothing could tear them apart.

"In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity."

Jaime wiggled his eyebrow.

"No escape now, wife."

She shook her head at him but was grinning.

"Look upon each other and say the words of the Seven."

Days ago, they had been tentative and awkward, knowing they felt something, but unsure what it might blossom in to. Now they were fully committed and in love with one another.

They turned as one and hands stilled clasped, gazed into each other's eyes as they repeated simultaneously, "Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crown, Stranger." Then Jaime said, "I am hers, and she is mine. From this day until the end of my days."

The words were a promise, Sansa could see. He would be hers for as long as he drew breath.

"I am his, and he is mine. From this day until the end of my days."

Then he smiled at her and cupped her cheek, stroking it softly.

"With this kiss, I pledge my love. All of my love, Sansa," he added for only her to hear, although his words carried to his family and the Tyrells. He leaned down and pulled her close and Sansa wound her arms around his neck, pressing herself against him. He was her husband. Her and in their own time. For all time. She was Sansa Lannister, and Jaime was hers.

"I love you, my little wolf," he whispered to her.

"I love you, my golden lion," Sansa said.

He kept his hand in hers as they turned to face the crowd in the Sept. Some were weeping, some looked joyous; other murderous and jealous.

Tywin was by their side, along with Kevan and Tyrion, the Lannister's surrounding them and escorting them to the gardens where their wedding feast would take place.

Sansa and Jaime took their places as the head of the table, surrounded by their family and the King, who had a pinched and ugly look on his face. Jaime had his eyes on the Tyrells. After they had been seated, both Margaery and Olenna had approached them as they sat to offer their congratulations on their wedding. Sansa hugged both women, but Jaime simply nodded to them.

There was something… off about Olenna, and Sansa remembered almost too late what had happened at Joffrey's wedding.

_Surely, she wouldn't? Would she?_

Sansa looked at Margaery's hair and felt a sick sensation in the pit of her stomach. She was wearing the same hairpiece the Tyrell's had given her for the wedding to the King. And Sansa swore a purple jewel was missing.

She stopped her husband from eating or drinking a thing and called for a taster.

Tywin frowned.

"Do you really think it is necessary?"

"Yes." Sansa’s face was a hard mask and she gave no quarter on this.

"Sansa?" Jaime asked. She just gave him a look that begged him to trust her. Nodding, he turned to Tywin. He, too, remembered what Olenna had confessed in her Tower at Highgarden – that she had been responsible for Joffrey’s death.

Jaime squeezed Sansa's hand and spoke quietly.

"Look at Lady Olenna, father and tell me that isn't a woman that is overly concerned about what our wedding feast looks like."

Tywin's cold green eyes fell on the Tyrell matriarch. She was indeed seemingly fixated on the plates of food in front of Sansa and Jaime. Tywin felt ill and what might have happened in front of his very eyes.

Once called, a woman appeared, and Jaime indicated the food that they were being served be tasted immediately.

"The wine, Jaime," Sansa all but whispered, horrified and remembering what had happened last time. Her husband's eyes flashed to hers, and he picked up the goblet. He was gone in an instant, striding towards Lady Olenna, his long sure strides eating up the distance between them. Jaime handed her the cup.

"I have my own,” Olenna sniffed, refusing the drink.

"I insist.” Jaime’s eyes glittered. “It is my wedding, after all.”

Those around watched in horrified fascination. Olenna shook her head and knocked the goblet to the ground, spilling the contents and destroying the evidence.

Jaime leaned in, his green eyes glittering in hatred. "I know all your secrets, Lady Olenna. Murdering my wife at her own wedding? Who would do such a thing?"

She blanched, then notched her chin up defiantly.

"You can prove nothing." Her look might have been haughty, but her voice quivered.

"I will see you dead for this, My Lady. Have no doubt. I will come to you. No one in your family is safe. This is my vow to you. I will see your house wiped from the pages of Westeros' history, and burn and salt the ground where your castle resides." He saw her eyes widen in genuine fear. "Do you think Lord Willas stands a chance against me? When I cut his soft belly and watch his innards spill on the ground, do you think he'll appreciate that it was you that drove me to this?" Then like the real bastard he was, he leaned in so close that only she could hear. "I should let Joffrey marry Margaery tomorrow. Do you think she would last a single night with him, your precious granddaughter? He'd destroy her. You know what he does to his whores. Imagine what he’d do to her.”

Olenna looked sick.

"Never anger a Lannister, Olenna. For what is a rose, compared to a lion?"

"You wouldn't dare,” she spat.

He let a hollow-sounding laugh loose. "Try me."

She reeled back at the truth she saw there before Jaime spun to be with Sansa.

Tywin was livid. He could hardly believe that Olenna Tyrell would be so bold, to murder his son's wife on their wedding day in front of the entire court. It meant that she had serious concerns about her own granddaughter's marriage to Joffrey, and she was desperate to seize as much power as she could.

Jaime was enraged.

"This fucking place," he was muttering. "Fucking hell."

He drew Sansa to his side, vibrating in sheer terror at having almost lost her. She clung to him, stroking his back, trying to calm him. But there was no calming Jaime.

He looked at his father, his eyes bright and green.

"Either we eliminate the threats to us, or I take my wife and half the Lannister army back to the Rock. Let them try to get her there. I couldn’t give a fuck about the Throne. They can fight over it like mongrel dogs over a meaty bone.”

Tywin, himself beyond angry at what the Tyrell's had just attempted, wholeheartedly approved of his son's defence of his bride.

“I understand,” was all Tywin said.

It wasn't enough for Jaime as he thought about the threat and how close he had come to losing Sansa today. He spoke again, his voice barely able to control the dread and wrath he felt at how close Olenna had come to taking everything from him.

"I will raise the best army this land has fucking seen and take Highgarden apart, brick by brick. I will burn every keep in the Reach to the ground and seize crops and livestock until their people starve for what Olenna has done."

Tywin, Cersei, Kevan and Tyrion looked on in stunned silence. Jaime was a brilliant military commander, but they had never seen anything like this before. This was looking at a young Tywin who had obliterated two houses disloyal to the Lannisters.

He pressed a kiss to Sansa's forehead. "Fuck little wolf; I love you so much." She pressed herself closer to him.

Then he let his eyes clash with Cersei's, pleased when his twin shrunk back at the pure hatred she found there. "You would be wise, sister, to heed my anger. I will utterly destroy anyone who harms my wife."

Cersei swallowed. Hard. She had never expected this day ever to come, but she saw the conviction in Jaime's eyes. The Tyrell's were all but dead, and Lady Margaery was no longer an accepted wife for her son. She had tried to tell her father that before; perhaps he would see it now.

"It will be dealt with, Jaime." Tywin met his son's eyes, and Jaime saw the conviction there. Tywin was as dedicated to seeing to their safety as anyone in the realm.

"We will dine in our rooms. Send tasters. I will take no more chances with her."

Jaime pulled Sansa from the gardens, stalking through the nobles, snarling at anyone who came in his path. He had come so close to losing her.

Sansa, for her part, had to practically run to keep up with Jaime. She had never seen him so angry. When they finally got to their rooms, there was food there and two serving girls to taste it. When that had been done, and no one lay on the floor dying, Jaime finally shooed them from the room, baring the door.

He was breathing heavy and tried to get himself under control. He had never, ever felt fear and anger like that in his entire life, and he was worried that he would scare his wife. He had his back turned to her as she approached and pressed herself against him from behind. He caught one of her hands and brought it to his lips.

"Fuck, Sansa, that was too close."

"I know, my love. I know. We knew our time here would be dangerous."

He spun then, and his eyes were wild. "I wouldn't survive if I lost you, Sansa. Not now."

She pressed her lips to his, trying to calm him. She knew how he felt; she did not want to live in a world without Jaime Lannister in it.

They tore at each other's clothes until both naked, Jaime picked Sansa up, striding across their rooms to the bed where he laid her down, never breaking contact with her. He nipped and sucked, licked and praised her, murmuring over and over how much he loved her.

"Jaime, I need you," she demanded, yanking his up by his hair to fuse their lips as he pressed inside her, groaning with how good she felt as she wrapped her long legs around him.

"Hold on, love," he said. He had such a need for her right now, to reassure himself that she was safe and alive and in his arms.

"Anything, husband."

He growled and thrust into her, until she was sobbing his name and shattering around him, dragging him over as he finished deep inside her. He held himself there, on top of her, letting her absorb some of his weight, needing to feel connected to her as long as possible.

When their breathing slowed, and he cleaned her, Jaime brought plates of food back to their bed, insisting on feeding her from his hand.

Sansa sucked at his fingers as he fed her. When she did the same, where he returned the favour, sucking her fingers deep into his mouth. They drank wine until they were both slightly drunk, and their desire for one another once again consumed them, this time Sansa riding him to both their peaks.

Sleepily, Jaime brought her to the bathing rooms and drew a bath, sinking into the warm water with her, pressing kisses to her back, tracing the scars.

"I love you, Sansa. You're my wife," he was almost repeating like a mantra. “You are everything to me.”

She turned in the water and stroked his cheek. He had a slight stubble to his handsome face, and she rubbed at it, liking what it felt like against her skin.

"Tomorrow. We meet with your family, and we plan Jaime."

He saw the gleam in her eyes.

"You have a plan."

"Several."

"Gods, your brain is a thing of wonder, little wolf."

She grinned, loving how Jaime liked her intelligence. "We will deal with them all. Petyr, Olenna, Joffrey, Lysa. Our enemies will not know what is coming for them."

He cupped the back of her neck and kissed her hard and long. "For all our days, Sansa."

"For all our days, Jaime. And when we are through with them, our enemies will know to never mess with the Lions and the Wolves again."


	8. Chapter 8

Sansa watched as her husband ran his hand over her body, tracing the lines and curves that made her so different from him. She was propped up on some pillows, while Jaime’s golden head rested on her stomach.

They had been married for just over two weeks now total, and even though they had stolen time together in Winterfell, there it had been tinged with desperation.

Yesterday, they had nothing but time. Of course, she knew that to be an illusion.

Jaime had bought them a single extra day, which had greedily taken, to spend locked away from everyone else in King’s Landing.

He'd had food delivered along with wine and had spent the day not letting her leave the bed, except to use the privy or to bathe with her. Sansa was sore, that much was more than apparent as she shifted ever so slightly, but it was a delicious type of sore, brought about by her husband and his love and attention. She relished it, as she did the sweet soft air that came through their open windows and the sunlight that made Jaime’s head even more golden if that were possible.

Sansa had never known it could be like this with a husband; exciting, loving, passionate and she ached for more time with the man she loved.

In a matter of hours, they were due in the Hand's apartments to discuss what came next.

In between rounds of loving her, Jaime and Sansa had talked. And talked. They had tried to compile all their knowledge into one single narrative so they could figure out what their next move was.

At one point, Sansa had asked, somewhat tentatively, what Jaime thought might have happened in their own time.

"Do you think we won?"

His green eyes met hers. "I do, love."

She could see the truth there. "And then we stopped Dany?"

"We did."

She frowned, shaking her head a bit. "I wish I had your confidence."

He shrugged and rolled over, dragging her on top of him.

"There is so much I'm shit at Sansa, but worrying about problems I cannot solve, is not one of them. I cannot know what happened after we left, only that I believe in our friends and allies."

She sighed, wondering how, after everything he had been through, her husband still basically believed in the goodness in the world. He was astonishing.

She loved that about him; he dragged her out of her moods, which she hated to admit, she was in more often than she cared to be. She had been so ill-used, so broken, beaten and betrayed, that she found it nearly impossible to trust that something good could happen to them.

Despite all of that, she did trust Jaime. Implicitly. She knew that they complimented each other with their strengths and weaknesses.

They'd played out a variety of different scenarios, all designed to maximize their time here with the knowledge they had. As Sansa could figure it, the greatest threats to them were Joffrey, Cersei, the Tyrells, Petyr Baelish and Stannis and Shireen Baratheon and their legitimate claim to the throne.

They discussed their enemies at length.

Joffrey, Cersei and the Tyrell's weren't going anywhere. They were all fully committed to Joffrey sitting on the Iron Throne, as long as Olenna had a second plan on how to kill the King. They were almost positive they could convince Tywin to postpone the wedding long enough for them to gain allies and keeping the Tyrell’s here, with their gazes focused on the Throne neutralized them to a degree.

Stannis was going nowhere on his rock out in the sea. He had no allies, the Stormlands had no more men to give other than those that were already pledged to him, and they were down to four Kings with Renly Baratheon dead. There was a possibility that if he could, Stannis would try to push into the North again. It grated on Sansa, but that region was one of the most vulnerable in Westeros at the moment.

Balon Greyjoy was another matter altogether, but the Iron Islands had always existed in an uneasy pact with the rest of Westeros. And more times than they cared to admit, they had been forced to bend the knee to the Lannisters. Sansa wondered if it grated on the Old Lion's nerves to have Balon proclaim himself a King. It was something to discuss, although Sansa knew that Tywin would never accept anything but a bended knee from the Iron Born. Balon had burned the Lannister fleet at Lannisport, and that was not a slight the Great Lion would forget. Still, as long as Balon was content to sit on the Iron Islands, he was not an immediate threat.

Joff, Stannis and Baelish, were.

They needed allies, which meant they needed the North, the Riverlands and the Vale.

"And how do you propose we do that, dear wife?"

Jaime was lounging, naked against the bed, distracting her by eating grapes. He kept popping them in his mouth and making a smacking sound and then licking his lips. She threw a pillow at him, as he knew exactly what he was doing. It amazed Sansa how Jaime could go from deadly to playful in a heartbeat.

"This is serious."

"So is my desire for you."

She huffed out a sigh and gave him a look, and he grinned.

"I'm listening, my wolf wife." He grinned, and Sansa felt the lust bolt through her body. Gods, he was incorrigible. And so handsome.

"Jaime." Sansa’s voice was needy with want for him.

He moved suddenly, so he was at the same end of the bed as her and grabbed her ankle. She was naked as well, as he fit his body over hers, kissing her neck and then dipping down to suck the tips of her breasts into his mouth.

"Speak, wife. You have my full attention."

Sansa's mind was a whirl of emotions, the primary one being desire. She writhed underneath him, seeking more.

"Ah ah, ah, little one, not until you tell me your brilliant plan," Jaime said, grinning up from between her chest.

"We need to get everyone from the Vale and the Riverlands to a parlay, along with Baelish and expose him for his crimes."

"Uh-huh, and how do you propose we do that?"

Jaime let his hands wander down her body and finding her ready, he rubbed at her, sinking first one, then two fingers inside her as she writhed on him.

"I tell Lord Royce I know who killed Jon Arryn," Sansa panted.

Jaime stopped and raised his head. His green eyes were suddenly dangerous. "And who did kill Lord Arryn, my little wolf?"

"Lysa with poison provided by Littlefinger."

"Fucking seven hells, I hate that man," Jaime muttered. Then Sansa wiggled and moaned, and he took pity on her, removing his fingers and surging into his wife.

"Legs around me, Sansa. I need you too much," Jaime demanded and grinned when he felt them come around his middle. "Hold on love," he told her as he pounded into her, making her feel every inch of him and then some.

When she was begging him to let her come, he finally reached down and found her nub and rubbed at her until she shattered beneath him, full out screaming his name into their rooms. He soon followed her over, spending deep inside her.

"Gods, love, what you do to me," Jaime said, kissing her softly on the lips.

"I love you, Jaime."

"And I love you. Now we must bath, lest we shock everyone by showing up in a state of disarray."

Sansa laughed but knew no matter what they did; she would look thoroughly ravaged. Jaime had made sure that his whisker marks and his love bites adorned her neck for all to see.

When they were bathed and dressed, he secured his mother's necklace on her, loving how it looked and took her hand as they made their way to the Tower of the Hand. His father was expecting them, and Jaime couldn't wait to watch the Old Lions match wits with his wife.

When they entered the Hand's apartments, Tywin was there to greet them. He took one look and grunted his approval before turning on his heel and walking them both back towards his map room. The way these two carried on, Jaime would have her pregnant within the month.

He was not an idiot; the Tyrells had crossed a line, and he was in a precarious position. He needed allies, and Jaime's new wife was their best hope.

When they got to the enormous map, Sansa's eyes widened and then narrowed as she looked at the markers on the board. She almost rubbed her hands in anticipation and then looked up to see who else was there. Tyrion, Kevan and Tywin. Plus, her husband. Four lions, but four, she had to trust.

"May I?"

Tywin gave a slight nod to his head. Sansa walked the map. Twice. She never raised her head instead of looking everywhere. The Lannister men were fascinated by her. She looked up then and met Tywin's eyes.

"The way I can figure, we have three main enemies."

His eyes narrowed.

"We? Or you?"

She gave him a look. "Please. We are beyond that. Our fates are now tied together, Lord Tywin."

He snorted. "I could kill your brother, and then you'd be in line for the North."

She laughed. "You tried. He outmaneuvered you on the battlefield for over a year. You were going to resort to treachery to murder him."

He grunted, hating that she had found out his plan. It was a brutal but elegant solution to his problem.

"Besides, what you failed to consider is how hated the Lannister's would be by breaking guest rights. That is scared in the North, Tywin."

He snorted, and she huffed. "Beyond that, Lord Tywin," she said, emphasizing the Lord part, "I have two brothers who are both alive."

He started at that bit of news. "The Bolton's assure us they are dead."

"The Bolton's are wrong."

He locked eyes with her and saw she spoke the truth. He wasn't stupid enough to ask what good she was, but she answered anyway. "My value lies in securing you three of the seven Kingdoms."

She placed a marker down on the Vale, the Riverlands and the North.

"How?"

"Which one shall we start with?"

"The Vale."

"I know who killed Lord Jon Arryn, why and how." Before he could sputter, she couldn't possibly, Sansa continued speaking. "And I can deliver both to Lord Royce for his allegiance."

Tywin was suitably impressed. Jaime was grinning. He couldn't help it. She was magnificent.

"The Riverlands?"

"My Uncle is weak and needs allies. House Frey, a bannermen, was set to betray him. Added to that, Balon has declared his independence. If the Riverlands comes into an alliance with us, we will deliver justice to both House Frey and the Iron Born."

Tywin grunted.

"And my Uncle should marry Lord Royce's daughter, Ysilla, tightening the bonds between the two houses."

His eyes widened. It was a brilliant move and made sense.

Then he sneered.

"The North?"

Sansa sighed. She placed the wolf marker on Winterfell.

"Robb was brilliant against you in the field of battle. You might not admit that out loud, but it was the truth." Tywin's eyes never left hers.

"But he is a mere babe at the game of thrones. His marriage is problematic at best and potentially deadly at its worst. Breaking faith with House Frey allowed someone like you an opportunity to create discord. We might be able to salvage something wedding Tyrion to Roslin."

She let her hands trail over the map. "Robb needs to retake Winterfell. Ramsay is at the Dreadfort, and with his full Northern army, he would have no problem taking back the North."

She raised her eyes and looked at Tywin.

"The issue is Ser Jaime and House Lannister. First, my mother knows who threw Bran for the tower window. The bigger issue is Petyr Baelish indicated that it was Tyrion that sent the assassin to finish Bran off. The proof is a Valyrian steel dagger Baelish had. It's called a catspaw. He claims it is a Lannister weapon."

Tywin was outraged. "Baelish."

Sansa sighed. "He's in bed with everyone. Perhaps not literally, although he pays his whores well enough to fuck rich men throughout the Kingdom, but he's playing all sides. You think he brought the Lannister's and Tyrell's together for the greater good? It was for his end. Petyr knew he would never sway Stannis to his side. My father declared for Stannis Baratheon and wanted to back him for the throne. Baelish is the one who betrayed him and had him arrested, along with your daughter. Exposing Petyr Baelish to House Tully, House Stark and the Vale will gain us three regions."

She frowned.

"What?" Tywin barked at her.

"You need to bring in Ser Gregor."

He snorted. "I was at war with them, Sansa."

She sighed. "I know, but he is a monster, even you know that. Besides, what do you think Dorne might want? They can't ask for your head in Elia's death."

Four Lannister jaws dropped. No one had ever spoken to Tywin Lannister like that. And lived.

Sansa met his green-gold eyes.

"You are brilliant and bold, but that had gotten men smarter than you killed, Lady Sansa."

"I know. I have no choice." She looked to Jaime, and he was there in an instant.

"It's not her plan only, Father. Everything discussed here today; I am supportive of."

Tywin snorted. "And how do you convince Catelyn Stark not to run you through the moment you show up wedded to her eldest daughter?"

Jaime let his hands rest on Sansa's stomach. "A future King or Queen of the realm that had Northern blood might just convince her to back our marriage."

Tywin's eyes narrowed. "We are a long way from the Throne, Jaime."

Sansa agreed, and Tywin looked shocked. "We are. It's simple math. Right now, whether any of us like it or not, Stannis has the legitimate claim to the Throne."

"Stannis," Tywin all but spat, looking at Dragonstone. "A religious fanatic that couldn't even rally his loyal bannermen to his side against his younger brother who loved other men. Tell me what type of king he would make." He paused. "But he is a danger. He will never stop. He is relentless. He will fight to the bitter end."

Sansa agreed. "He needs men. He could hire them with backing from the Iron Bank. We cannot allow that to happen."

Tywin's estimation of Jaime's new wife grew.

"No, we cannot. Especially when the Crown is in such debt thanks to Littlefinger."

"How much?" Jaime asked.

"Three million golden dragons to both House Lannister and the Iron Bank," came Tyrion's response. "He wasn't quite as good with money as he'd have us believe."

Jaime had known this, of course, but to hear it again, he felt ill. He had always thought Cersei to be so smart, but the more he uncovered, the more he realized she had made huge mistakes. This was just one more.

"If he's executed and trust me when I say I cannot see Lord Royce allowing him to live, then his money can be claimed by the Crown to pay back House Lannister."

It was an elegant solution that Sansa proposed, and one Tywin fully supported.

"Once the crown is no longer at war with the North, then repayments can begin in earnest," Tyrion said.

"If we can persuade the Iron Bank to support House Lannister, then Stannis will have nothing. No allies, no men, and no way into Westeros. He is a concern, of that I agree, Tywin, but not our immediate one."

Tywin leaned over his map.

"And your family, you think you can convince them to come into an alliance with us?"

Sansa crossed her hands behind her back and looked at the map with him.

"The Karstark's are the only ones who have left my brother. That was a mess, made worse by the execution of Lannister prisoners," Sansa shot a sympathetic look to Kevan. "And my brother's short-sightedness. As awful as their actions were, taking their heads at that moment was stupid. He has problems in the North, and he needs to go home." She looked at Jaime. "Other things are coming, Lord Tywin. Coming for us all."

Jaime brought her hands up to his lips and pressed a kiss to them. "We'll find a way, my love."

"I know."

No one had a clue what they were talking about, but whatever it was, both Jaime and Sansa looked more scared then all other enemies combined.

When they turned back, Jaime spoke.

"Beyond that father, we have the self-proclaimed Dragon Queen in Essos. Dragons grow and fly. A strong alliance, with four Kingdoms, potentially five with Dorne and the ability to cut Stannis off at the knees and claim the Stormlands give us six."

Tywin said nothing, looking back and forth between the map and his son and his wife.

He sighed. He hated taking risks, but that was the world they lived in.

If Jaime and Sansa could parlay and bring three regions to the side of House Lannister, it would give them the largest ruling block in the Kingdom.

The biggest issue he was having, was could he trust his son with the future of his house?

If they were successful, then more than just an end to the war could be secured. He could see a path forward for seating Jaime on the Iron Throne. A true Lannister. The start of a dynasty. The ability of their family name to continue after he was gone. And that was the lure for him.

There were no guarantees, but he'd never been so close as he was at this moment. He knew there was a window of opportunity.

Should the Tyrell's get a hand of the Throne, they'd be hard-pressed to pry their greedy fingers from it. That made Tywin seethe, thinking of them somehow usurping his family's place. He knew there was no other choice. Cersei and Jaime had seen to that with Joffrey's parentage.

"Send the raven's Lady Sansa."

He turned and left the room, needing to be alone.

Tyrion and Kevan just looked at her, something akin to awe on both their faces. Sansa knew more would have to be discussed. She would not allow them to ride North without the Lannister Army at their back, but so far, they were changing things. All that remained to be seen was whether that change was for the better or worse. Still, Sansa felt Jaime squeeze her hand and knew she had her husband's support. That was enough for now. They were doing everything they could.

"Come, wife, I have a need for you again," Jaime murmured into her ear. She would write her ravens and move the pieces around the board. And he would help her and support her as best he could.


	9. Chapter 9

After Sansa and Jaime left the Tower of the Hand, Jaime could see that something was on his wife's mind. He hated that he couldn't ask what the problem was; there were ears everywhere in the Red Keep.

He almost groaned at that thought.

Varys. They hadn't even decided what to do about the Spider. He was already betraying them and in contact with Daenerys in Essos. His network was legendary, and he hated Petyr Baelish.

Jaime was thinking about the catspaw dagger. He'd seen it at Winterfell in Arya Stark's hands and knew that Baelish would either have it on his person or close by. No way that he was leaving that for just anyone to find.

Jaime knew that Varys and Tyrion were close; they had to be to both end up with Dany in the end.

Gods, he hated thinking about that entire nightmare of Joffrey's death, Tyrion's trial and his father's death. It hurt him when he did, the way his family had turned on one another, spured on by his sister and her hatred for Tyrion.

As if they knew they had more to talk about, they hurried to their rooms, locking the doors and holding each other.

Jaime stroked her hair and pressed a kiss to her lips. "My brilliant wife," he murmured to her.

"My devoted husband."

"Where can we meet love? Where would your family feel comfortable coming?"

She gave him a smirk. "The Saltpans."

It was a logical place to meet, just off the Kingsroad and just south of the Crossroads Inn. It would take two weeks to make their way there whether coming from the Riverlands, King’s Landing or the Vale.

"I need to write the ravens,” Sansa said reluctantly, kissing Jaime once more.

Jaime nodded and watched as she went to her desk to start to write. She needed to get everyone there. She was the key to all of this.

Her mother, brother and Uncle Edmure from the Riverlands and the North.

Lord Royce with Lysa Arryn from the Vale.

"Lysa Arryn won't easily leave her perch in the Vale, love," Jaime said. He remembered when it had been suggested he marry the Tully woman. He thanked the gods that had never happened.

Sansa grinned. "She'll come for Petyr. She loves him. It's how he convinced her to murder her husband. He promised he'd marry her."

Jaime looked disgusted. "Honestly?"

Sansa nodded distractedly. "But Petyr has only loved one woman his entire life. My mother."

Jaime shook his head. He knew that Baelish had trailed around after the Tully sisters, but he had no idea he'd never gotten over Catelyn Stark.

"He even challenged my Uncle to a duel for my mother's hand. He lost, of course, and was made fun of by my Uncle Brandon. Half the reason I think he betrayed my father is that he thought he should have married my mother after Aerys burned his brother."

"Fascinating." It was. Jaime loved how Sansa spoke to him, as if he were important and worthy of such information.

Sansa gave him a look.

"He is the architect of so much pain, Jaime. Not just the wars between our families. Good men lost their lives because of his manipulations. He sold me to the Bolton's. Then when the Knights of the Vale came to our side, he said that with me as his wife, we could take the Throne from you and Cersei."

Jaime scowled. "After what he did?"

Sansa shrugged, ever pragmatic.

"In some ways, it wasn't a bad plan. With the North and the Vale, the Riverlands, we would have had a strong alliance." She sighed. "All he wants is the Throne, and he'll do anything to get it. He's the most dangerous. He and Olenna planned Joffrey's death. I watched him murder Ser Dontos in front of me to cover his secret. He set Arya and I up to distrust each other in Winterfell. He's everywhere."

Jaime could see the distress in her face. He went to her and pulled her into his arms.

"Shhhh, love."

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "You have to understand, though. It was him and Cersei that taught me how to play the game. How to survive. How to be smarter, more ruthless than anyone else. To think three, or even five steps ahead."

She hid her face, almost as if ashamed.

He tilted her chin. "Good."

She saw nothing but love and respect on his face.

"You were alone, friendless and amongst enemies, Sansa. Good that you learned from them. I'm glad. Not that you felt a moment of pain. Never that. But I'm glad you did whatever you had to survive. Never apologize for what you did."

"Jaime." She felt her eyes fill with tears. "Sometimes, I worry that I'm becoming like them."

He shook his head vehemently. "Never, Sansa. Gods, never my love. You are nothing like either one of them. You care for people. You want peace, love. The only way you are like them is that you became smarter than them. That is all."

"Are you sure? Sometimes I worry I'm a monster just like them. When Arya slit Petyr's throat, I felt nothing but satisfaction."

"As you should," Jaime all but growled. "Fuck, Sansa. That man almost destroyed your family. He sold you to the Boltons."

She burrowed deeper into his arms. "Promise me that if you think I'm becoming like Cersei or Petyr, you'll tell me. I don't want to lose my humanity, Jaime."

He knew that she never would for the very fact that she was worried and conscious about it. She was at her heart, good. So, fucking good. He'd seen it in the North, and he'd seen it here. Still, he knew what it was like to be haunted by your past.

"I promise, although I have no fear, little wolf. You care so much for those you love, and those in your care."

"If I am ever Queen Jaime, I want them to love me."

He stroked her cheeks. "They will love. Hell, most already do." He dragged her closer and kissed her to chase away the painful memories.

"Write your ravens, and then we will go for dinner, love."

She spent the next few hours composing ravens to her brother, her mother, her Aunt, her Uncle and Lord Royce. She knew that the promises she had put in each raven would ensure they would all meet at the Saltpans in three weeks. The payoff was too tantalizing.

When they left for dinner that evening, Sansa let Jaime pull her close to him. She felt exhausted, from the strategy session with Tywin to the emotional conversation with Jaime, and finally, the writing of the ravens. The day had felt endless.

She could only pray that Joffrey wasn't there at dinner tonight. She might take her bread knife and stab him should he say something stupid. Thankfully, when they walked in, neither Cersei nor Joff was there. Yet. Quickly she approached Tywin and held out the ravens.

He raised an eyebrow.

She gave him a look. "I need you to trust me. And I know you don't. Not quite yet, even though you know I love Jaime."

"Perceptive, Lady Lannister."

She gave him a tired grin at him using her new name. "I love him, Lord Tywin. I would never do anything to harm him."

He gazed upon her and saw the toll the day had taken. He gentled his tone for the first time in years. "I know. Thank you. I will read them and have them back to you in the morning. Have you decided where the meeting will take place?"

"The Saltpans."

He grunted his acceptance. Then they both heard the voices of Cersei and Tywin saw his new good daughter square her shoulders as if to do battle. He laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "He never looked at her the way he looks at you."

When Sansa gave him a skeptical look, Tywin shrugged. "Trust me. I once had the same look on my face, Sansa, for my wife."

She nodded and tried to blink back the tears. "She is so bad for him, Tywin."

They both looked over to see Jaime stiffen his entire body as Cersei entered. Tywin hated that Joffrey was the living embodiment of their idiocy and was thankful he was at least not here tonight.

As if realizing Sansa wasn't by his side, Jaime turned from Cersei and searched the room for her. Spotting her, he came over to her side quickly.

"Little wolf, there you are," he said and pulled her closer. "We will stay for dinner and then we are leaving." His tone left no room for argument. He was in no mood for anything from Cersei.

Unfortunately, Cersei was in a mood to battle.

"Congratulations are in order, I suppose. To the newest traitorous whore that somehow stole my brother from his family."

"Cersei," Jaime growled, glaring at her. "I'm not in the mood, sister."

"Oh, yes. Your moods. Does your sweet wife know them all? How you like it when you are touched in a certain way. Has she figured out exactly what you like, Jaime?" Cersei clucked her tongue and rang it around her lips, making the gesture obscene as she sipped her wine.

Sansa felt the blood drain from her face. There was no mistaking what she meant. She felt ill. She knew they had been together like that; everyone around the table did. But she had never expected the Queen Mother to discuss it openly.

"Cersei," Tywin barked, feeling ill for Sansa.

Cersei rolled her eyes. "She has to fuck him, father. She's no good if she doesn't give him heirs."

Jaime slammed his fist on the table. "Stop. Now."

Cersei laughed. "At least we know you are capable of fathering children, Ser Jaime. Such a virile man."

Jaime wanted to take his sword and drive it straight into her hateful face. He knew exactly what she was doing. He didn't even want to look at Sansa. He was beyond embarrassed and had no idea how to fix this.

Then he felt his wife's hand stroke his.

"I'm surprised you didn't hear us," Sansa all but purred. "I must say, Jaime is particularly creative. I had high hopes for him going into our marriage bed, but he has surpassed all of them."

Tywin barked out a laugh as they all saw Cersei's face go red.

Then Sansa leaned in towards her. "And while you may have had him first, I will have him last. For all our days, Cersei. In our bed, with our children, who will be true Lannisters and not the bastards you have whelped out of your dried up cunt."

Sansa then took her wine and downed it in one long swallow. She rose and looked at Jaime. "I am no longer hungry, husband. At least, not for food. Take me back to our bed."

Jaime was in utter awe of her. He rose and drug her face to his and kissed her. He let his one hand trail down her back, bringing her closer. When he pulled back, he whispered, "I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "No. Don't do that. Don't give this to her. She's a hateful woman, alone and miserable."

"I love you, Sansa. For all my days, wife." He pressed his forehead to hers.

"And I love you. Now take me out of this place, Jaime."

"My pleasure."

They left without looking back, hearing only the wail of Cersei, the shouts of the Great Lion and the shattering of glass.

When they entered their rooms, Jaime was tentative, until Sansa grasped his golden hand and took it off and pressed a kiss to his stump. "We are not the hateful people she wants us to be. You are not that man anymore, Jaime. Don't let her take our happiness."

He would never be worthy of her; he knew that unequivocally. But he would try. Every single day, Jaime vowed- starting now.

He undressed her slowly and, as he had before, pressed kisses along her back, tracing ever hurt that had ever been bestowed upon her body. He stroked and loved her until she could do nothing but plead for him, finally allowing himself to sink inside her, loving her deeply and gently. She kissed his lips, and he held their gazes, so they were connected the entire time. When they peaked together, they both felt like it was a cleansing of sorts.

"It's crass, but it was never like this with her," he told Sansa, kissing her along her neck. "You have to know that."

"I do," she said, tears in her eyes. Tywin had told her hours ago. "I know, Jaime. I know what we have is real."

"It's all you, love. Always and forever, you."

He held her that night, waking her again and again, needing to make amends and be as close as possible to her. The next morning, Tywin entered their chambers, happy to see that they were settled together on a small sofa.

"These are adequate, Lady Sansa," Tywin said, handing her the ravens. She thanked him and said she would send them today.

He then hesitated and asked if he could sit. Jaime indicated a seat across from them.

Tywin let out a pained breath. He pinched his nose and then gazed at Sansa. "I will not apologize for her behaviour, as that is on her. But, Sansa, that is not what our family is. It will not happen again."

Sansa held his eyes. "If you think she will stop, ever, you are sorely mistaken, Tywin."

"I know." He paused. "She is my daughter."

"And Joffrey is Jaime's son."

There was nothing to say to that.

"I need time to think," was all he would say before the Great Lion removed himself from the room.

Jaime and Sansa walked to the rookery together and watched as the Maester in charge secured the ravens. When they flew away, Sansa squeezed Jaime's hand. They would now wait for their responses. They had done what they could.

_ A week later _

The first raven arrived from Lord Royce, and Sansa felt something warm and familiar settle in her, seeing his familiar writing. He had been so loyal and so kind to her, and now she could repay him by giving him the man and woman that had killed his liege lord.

Unknown to anybody but her and Jaime, Sansa had added to the raven, asking the Vale knight to look for Sandor and Arya and keep them safe. Both her and Jaime had agreed that could they 'rescue' them, Sandor would be the ideal guard for her in King’s Landing . There was no man more loyal to her, save for her husband. How they would convince Tywin was another story.

Sansa could tell that Lord Royce was wary; he didn't trust her or the Lannisters. But she had offered too much information that he couldn't pass up this opportunity.

Her Aunt's raven also said she would be there; she would not pass up a chance to see Petyr, and it had helped that Sansa indicated that Littlefiinger had perhaps mentioned marriage in his future. Sansa could fairly read her desperation coming off the pages.

Next came the responses from her Uncle Edmure, her mother and Robb.

Anger laced every word, but her subtle digs at her marriage to Jaime ending the war, and the fact that Robb had left the North undefended while Theon had betrayed him, assured that as angry as her family was, they would be at the Saltpans in a fortnight.

For their part, while waiting for the ravens to arrive back, Jaime and Sansa had made themselves as visible as possible.

They had attended court; she'd watched Jaime spar with Ser Marbrand. The two men had embraced warmly, and Jaime had taken an active interest in the Lannister Army.

Tywin, Tyrion or Kevan always was at her side whenever Jaime was occupied. She appreciated it more than she could say.

Cersei never had dinner with them in the week that they waited for the ravens, and she and Tywin spent long hours discussing strategy and plans. It was the strangest feeling to feel safe in the presence of a man that the entire realm feared, but she did. The King came across Tywin and Sansa walking through the Red Keep one afternoon, and he almost scurried away from them, much to both of their delights.

When she said that they needed to take Lannister forces with them, Tywin heartily agreed, especially after watching Jaime in the yard, sparing with the others.

"He's such a good man, Tywin," Sansa said, as they watched him spar with his men.

He was laughing easily as he used his left hand the way he used to be able to with his right. Everyone could see the respect that the army gave him, and Tywin could see him taking his place as the head of House Lannister before his very eyes.

"It's incredible," Tywin said, amazed at how his son had recovered from losing his sword hand. It was a testament to his willpower and skill, and Tywin swelled with pride.

Jaime's wife was an utter delight, and Tywin took an excessive amount of pride in her intelligence and willingness to learn. Together they had all the best characteristics to be the King and Queen the realm needed and he would do everything possible to see them on the Throne.

When Sansa and Jaime entered his chambers one evening with the responses from Sansa's family, he knew it was time.

"You will take Kevan and twenty thousand Lannister forces."

Jaime's eyebrows raised. "Isn't that a bit much?"

"No, it's not." Jaime's head swung to his wife.

"We need to have a show of force, or they won't take us seriously."

Sansa and Tywin had talked at length about this upcoming meeting. She had some deep seated anger towards her family. Her brother for not trading Jaime for her, her mother for believing Petyr and kidnapping Tyrion, Robb for abandoning the North and executing the Karstarks, losing half his army.

These lions had raised Sansa, and now she was married to one, loved one, and she was fast suspecting, pregnant with a lion.

But the wolves were not without fault. They needed to show that this alliance benefited all four regions while exposing the Tully hypocrisy surrounding Littlefinger and some of the choices that her family had made. Sansa even felt anger over her mother's treatment of Jon, which she knew wasn't entirely fair, but it was there.

She looked at Jaime. "Does my mother know about the King?"

He gave her a bewildered look, and then horror came over his face. "Yes," he all but whispered.

She stood and paced, thinking. Both Tywin and Jaime watched her. She sighed and turned back.

"First, there isn't another man in the realm that is your equal."

Jaime grinned.

She rolled her eyes at him but couldn't help but smile. He was just so handsome and incorrigible.

"That's just a fact. Despite my mother hating you, that single fact alone might save us. There was no better marriage I could have made. The problem is, she knows who Joff is. We need to get her to state that she knows they aren't your children publicly. Or at the very least that she supports our marriage. If she does that, it will go a long way. My brother has problems of his own, and we cannot let her sway him with some of your more questionable choices."

Jaime at least had the decency to look chagrined.

She waved a hand. "Who else in House Lannister could be their father?" She looked at the two lions who both had stunned expressions on their faces.

Finally, Tywin recovered and cleared his throat, thinking fast. "My younger brother- Tygett. He is dead, and it would be believable."

"Good," Sansa said. Then she looked at Tywin. "Would you publicly back such a claim if it was required."

Tywin looked at her and nodded and saw the relief in her shoulders. "Good. Tell Kevan as well. It will go a long way to building our story."

"I will take care of Cersei if it is required."

"When can we leave?" Sansa looked at Jaime.

"Three days."

Sansa nodded, and they looked at Tywin.

"It's in your hands now, Lady Sansa."

Had she not known him better, Sansa might have felt that it was a threat. It was not; merely the truth.

"I won't fail us."

"I know, my dear." And then to the shock of everyone in the room, Tywin Lannister hugged his good daughter. "You are a singularly unique woman, Sansa. And I am proud you are a Lannister."

She felt the tears come to her eyes. She hugged him tighter until she knew that she was making him uncomfortable and then transferred herself to Jaime's arms.

They spent the next three days readying themselves and the Lannister army for the ride North. Because the army was Tywin and Jaime's to command, there wasn't a single thing either Cersei or Joffrey could say to stop them, though they fumed.

Tywin kept ten thousand men with him. He trusted neither his grandson nor his alliance with the Tyrell's. The Great Lion was also entirely in command of the City Watch, which gave him the most forces in King’s Landing by far.

He didn't feel nearly as vulnerable as sending Jaime and his wife up the Kings Road with Kevan and Ser Marbrand at Jaime’s side. He needed men that were battle-hardened and loyal to his son. He thought about sending Tyrion as well, but the temptation to wipe House Lannister from the map would be too tantalizing to risk it. While Tywin may have no intention of ever allowing Tyrion to inherit his family's magnificent castle, others still saw him as a legitimate heir.

The morning they departed King’s Landing, Tywin escorted them up the Kings Road. The fate of his house hung on the success of their mission, and he wanted to press upon them the importance. He might as well have saved his breath. He looked at their faces and knew they knew. Instead, he simply wished them good fortune and watched them ride away, knowing that the fate of Westeros might very well hang in the balance, and praying to gods he didn't believe in, that he would see his son and his wife again.


	10. Chapter 10

By the end of the first week on horseback, Sansa was more convinced than ever that she was pregnant with Jaime's child. She was exhausted, irritable and sick. Of course, her husband watched her like a hawk, and he saw every grimace and twinge that she let cross her face.

"Sansa, please. Perhaps you can ride in the carriage?" Jaime’s voice was pure exasperation.

There were two carriages, and both knew that one held Petyr and the other was empty. Sansa didn't even look at the second carriage. Jaime had told her that Addam and Kevan were ensuring that Littlefinger would remain alive until they rode into the Saltpans, and that was enough for her. She didn't need to speak with him or even see him.

"Jaime, we need to be seen."

He cursed her for her stubbornness as she clung to her horse, vowing to do everything in his power to make her see reason and get off the damn horse she insisted upon riding.

Leaving King's Landing, Tywin sent them up the Kings Road with gold and food. Even though the Crown was in debt, the small people were the ones that had suffered in recent years due to the constant fighting.

Since Tywin was planning on seizing all of Petyr's money and business establishments the moment they reached the Saltpans for the Crown to start repaying its debts, the Great Lion felt that giving some coin back to the common people would go a long way in earning their loyalty.

The faster the realm returned to normalcy, the more money that would flow into the coffers in King's Landing. War was bad for business and making money. Tywin's time as hand previously had been noted for stability and prosperity.

The Great Lion was eager to return to such times. A little gold distributed amongst the small people would go a long way in establishing goodwill for House Lannister.

Sansa realized their power within the first day of riding. The Lannister Army was an impressive force and her husband a handsome man, but there were mistrust and fear in the eyes of those they passed.

That all changed when Sansa forced them to stop one afternoon and visited a local orphanage.

She spoke with the Septas in charge, who told her that many men from the area had gone to war, never to return. Women whose husbands died found they could no longer afford to pay to feed their children, so they gave them up to save their lives, but their sheer numbers meant the building was now overflowing with underfed children.

Sansa immediately ordered the purchase of a second building, as well as food and coin, for the sisters to be able to feed their charges. Word spread throughout the Crownlands at the generosity of the Golden Lion's wife and every village they rode through, Sansa ensured that Lannister generosity was given.

She often dismounted to talk face to face with the small folk, becoming somewhat of a champion for women and children. When an old, fat Septon tried to argue with her that he and his brothers required the generous portions of food he had been stockpiling for himself, Sansa had him dismissed from his post and had him flogged five times for starving widows and children.

The villagers cheered her, and the legend of Sansa Lannister grew.

"Lady Sansa, do you think it wise to hand out coin to just anyone? We have no idea what they do or if they are worthy?"

That had been Ser Marbrand.

Sansa generally liked Addam Marbrand, and he was almost blindly loyal to her husband, but she cared not for his attitude when it came to those from a different social classes.

"Is it their fault that their husbands went to war and never returned?"

He coloured and stuttered and said nothing. He had no rebuttal, but she was not finished.

"They did not choose war. Noble families did, and noble families must see that they are fed and taken care of in the aftermath of such choices. It is our duty, Ser Marbrand."

She'd walked away from him, her head high and her back ramrod straight. Jaime just shook his head at his friend.

"Don't argue with her. She'll always win."

He was so proud of her and often accompanied her on her little sojourns into the villages. The children were fascinated with his golden hand, and Sansa watched as Jaime let the children crawl on him, uncaring that they might be dirty or diseased. She knew her husband would be an excellent father if what she suspected was true.

Sansa became so beloved so quickly that their approach to a village or town was heralded for days, and the peasants lined the streets to wait for her.

It was in one of these villages that Jaime saw her stumble a bit and sway as she was speaking with some local women. He was instantly at her side.

Luckily, they were in a larger village, and Jaime called for the nearest Maester. Within the hour, the man arrived and found Sansa and Jaime in an inn that had been cleared for them of all others.

"I'm fine," she was saying to him as he stroked her back. She didn't feel fine, but she hated how he worried, and she knew how important their mission was.

"Sansa, please indulge me," Jaime said, pressing his lips to her forehead. His stomach was in knots at the thought that she might be ill. He wondered if it had been something she ate or if travel simply disagreed with her.

It had been a wonder for him to watch her. He'd always known that she would make an excellent queen. He'd observed her caring nature and attention to detail at Winterfell when she cared for the small folk even as they were facing the Night King. Here, without the imminent threat of war, it was even more apparent just how well suited she was to rule.

Cersei couldn't care less for these people. In fact, she barely saw them as people, only something to be used from time to time. She ruled like Daenerys, from a place of fear and arrogance.

That was not Sansa's way. Sansa ruled from a place of love, and it made all the difference in the world.

But Jaime was worried. His wife was not eating much, she was nauseated, and she was tired and pale. They weren't so far from Kings Landing that if something was seriously wrong with her, he couldn't send her back. Nothing was worth her health. Not even this meeting with her family.

Within moments the Maester confirmed that his wife was indeed not feeling well.

"But that, My Lord, is due to the babe she is most like carrying."

They looked at each other in shocked joy, then back to the Maester.

"You are not japing?" Jaime asked, hope in his voice.

He shook his head. "It's early, but here in the country, this and setting broken limbs is what I spend most of my time doing. She has all the signs. Congratulations, My Lord."

The man bowed and gave Sansa tea that might help with her nausea. It had the smell of mint to it, and she thanked him.

When they were alone, Sansa's eyes filled with tears, and she flung herself into Jaime's arms. He placed her on his lap and nuzzled at her neck.

"A baby, Sansa," he told her, his voice filled with awe.

"A baby,” she confirmed. She had prayed daily during her marriage to Ramsay that she wouldn’t become pregnant, but now, with Jaime, she was overjoyed at the prospect.

He placed his hand over her stomach, and both just sat, contemplating precisely what this might mean. It was something they both wanted, and now it seemed their wishes had been granted.

Of course, they then had a fierce argument over whether or not she should ride. She insisted she could, while he wanted her in the carriage.

"Jaime, we need to be seen."

She would not be moved on this point, and Jaime discovered just how stubborn his wife truly was.

He huffed out a frustrated breath and ran his hand through his hair. He knew that it was true. The sheer love and devotion Sansa was creating on their ride north would endear them to the smallfolk for years. But the thought of her pushing herself, of doing anything that might, in any way, harm their child just about drove him mad. He loved his wife so much, and he hated to see her suffer. He slowed their retinue down and made her take frequent breaks, but she would not be swayed from riding alongside her husband.

Each evening, she spent time with Kevan and Addam, laughing and joking and getting to know them. Both provided fascinating accounts of Jaime in his youth, often at the expense of the Kingslayer's reputation, and Sansa laughed. When they were snuggled in bed in their tent, she would whisper all her hopes and dreams for their child and Jaime responded in kind.

He was wary of lying with her, having not received the clearance from the Maester when the man had confirmed her pregnancy, and Sansa was so exhausted that she didn't even push. But he held her in his arms each night, and it was a wonder to him to travel with this woman he loved as his wife and see just how amazing she was.

"What are you thinking?" he asked her one night when they had retired early. They were a day or two at most from the Saltpans, and he knew they needed to talk strategy. Everything hinged on the upcoming parlay and conversations with her family and Lord Royce.

"I need to get to Lord Royce first. He is the key."

She walked Jaime through her strategy, and he offered his opinion and suggestions. Far away from the cutting remarks of Cersei, the acerbic tongue of Tyrion, and the judgmental eyes of Tywin, Sansa saw him blossom once again into the man she'd known and fallen in love with at Winterfell.

Jaime was born to lead men, and the twenty-thousand Lannister men they had with them would walk through fire for him. But it was more than that. He did see people and their motivations; he understood in many ways why someone might have made the choices they did. He offered her valuable insights to her brother and her mother and gave his opinion on how they might best handle things.

She loved that he felt confident enough to do so with her and internally cursed his sister for always making him feel less. Sansa thought that she and Jaime complemented one another. Sometimes people like her or Tywin or even Tyrion tended to be too far into the politics of the game, while Jaime saw things through a human perspective, giving a much needed perspective.

When she complimented him on it, he brushed it aside until she held his chin in her hand and let him see the truth in her eyes.

"You are worthy, Jaime. Of these men, of me, of Casterly Rock. Even the Crown."

He kissed her deeply, and Sansa moaned, and for the first time since they'd left Kings Landing, they felt the heat and need flare between them. They both felt more connected with one another after Jaime spent the night inside her, and were in perfect accord with one another.

The next morning they called Kevan into their tent. They needed him to back their story about the parentage of Cersei's children.

When his eyes widened after they told him their plan, Sansa handed him a note from Tywin. Kevan read it. Twice. He swallowed hard and looked to Jaime but said nothing.

"I will do as you ask."

He turned and left their tent without another word, and Jaime felt the shame of his children's births wash over him again. He had never considered the ramifications could be so far-reaching. Even the child growing in his wife's belly could be tainted if they didn't establish a new story about the paternity of Cersei's children. He could see that now and hated that he hadn't years ago. So much of what had gone wrong in his life stemmed from his ill-conceived relationship with his twin.

Now his wife, father, and uncle were willing to lie because the truth was too explosive to be known. He'd put them all in a terrible position. He brooded about it for the entire day, until Sansa finally confronted him that evening.

"How can any of you believe in me? After what I've done? The things you have to do for me? The lies?"

He felt ill.

Sansa wrapped her arms around him.

"You're not that, man. You made mistakes, but you are trying, Jaime. This time, we can save so many. That is what is important. The Night King. Stannis. Daenerys. Think of all the death. Think about what we might prevent."

He held on for a moment before stepping away. He growled and stalked around the tent, running his hands through his hair.

"How can you love me?"

She smiled.

"Because you're a good man. You love me. We're having a baby, Jaime."

He came back and carded his hands through her hair.

"I will never deserve you, Sansa. Never. But I will love you for all my days, and no man will ever love you better than I do."

They came together that night, both feeling the need to reaffirm how deeply they loved one another through their lovemaking.

The Saltpans finally came into view the next day. It had never been an important trading port, but ships did come there from time to time. The castle of House Cox dominated the town; it was a small castle, no more than a holdfast, a single tall square keep with a bailey and a curtain wall. There were shops and inns and alehouses by the harbour, as well as a sept and a stable.

Jaime decreed that the Lannister Army would camp outside the curtain wall.

When camp had been established, Jaime sent men into the town, including Addam, to see if anyone else had arrived. It was a day later when word came Lord Royce had arrived, and he demanded an audience with Sansa and Jaime.

"Can we trust him?" Kevan asked, clearly worried.

"We can," Sansa said, confidently.

Jaime also looked slightly worried. When they were alone, he pulled her aside.

"He's not your Royce, little wolf."

She smiled. "But he is. He loved my father and Jon Arryn. He has always been true to House Stark and his liege lord. And he's a good man. That doesn't change with a few years, Jaime. Trust me."

He didn't like it, but he knew they needed the Vale knights on their side. The two parties had agreed to a neutral location, and since the Saltpans belonged to the Riverlands, they met at a local alehouse that had been cleared for their parley.

It took all of Sansa's composure not to fling herself into the arms of the man who had become like a father to her in the past few years when she entered the small building, but she kept her composure.

Yohn Bronze Royce held himself rigid, clearly unhappy to see Jaime Lannister at the meeting. He gave Sansa a curt nod as they sat and then wasted no time in placing her raven on the table.

"I believe an explanation is in order, Lady Sansa."

She nodded. "It is."

"You say you know who killed Jon Arryn. This is a serious accusation, My Lady."

"It is. Is my Aunt here?"

He gave her a grimace and nodded. "Why?" His eyes had narrowed.

"Lord Baelish gave my Aunt Lysa the poison that killed Jon Arryn."

To his credit, Lord Royce's only reaction was to stiffen his spine. His eyes narrowed.

"Why?"

Sansa held his gaze.

"For my Aunt, it was because she wanted to marry Lord Baelish, which he promised to do if her husband was dead. And it would keep her son by her side. For Lord Baelish, well, he learned that Jon discovered the true parentage of Cersei's children. Before Jon could tell Robert, he was murdered. It was beneficial for Lord Baelish to keep the Queen's secret."

Jaime leaned in to add to the story. "Lysa then wrote her sister and goodbrother, stating that it was the Lannisters that were responsible for Jon Arryn's death, sowing the seeds of mistrust between three houses as soon as Ned Stark was named Robert's new hand. He played everyone with Lysa Arryn’s help."

Royce reeled back at the information, processing it. A light came into his eyes.

"And who is the father of Cersei Lannister's children?"

Rumours had been rampant since the War of the Five Kings broke out, but Royce wanted confirmation as he glared at Jaime Lannister.

"Tygett Lannister."

Sansa slid Tywin's note across the table.

"Ser Kevan Lannister can also confirm."

Royce grunted. "There have been rumours, Lady Sansa, of a different man being the father of the King."

His eyes fell on Jaime's face, but he could see no lie there.

Sansa held her husband's hand.

"Lord Royce, I am Ned Stark's daughter. Do you believe I would have married this man if I had any doubts about him?"

Royce grumbled something that neither heard.

"Jon discovered this secret, along with my father. I am unsure what Lord Arryn would have done with this information, but my father…" Sansa paused and swallowed. Jaime leaned in and put his arm around her. She huffed a breath. "My father wanted to back Stannis Baratheon for the Throne. Before he could do anything more than send ravens, Lord Baelish betrayed him, he was named a traitor, and Joffrey had him executed."

She felt the tears come to her eyes.

"There is much Littlefinger is responsible for, but he is directly responsible for the death of Jon Arryn and Ned Stark." She met Lord Royce's eyes. "He also told my mother it was the Lannister's that sent an assassin to kill my brother, starting the war between our two houses and has run the crown into incredible debt. He means to marry my Aunt, murder her and gain the trust of my cousin Robin, and become the Lord Protector of the Vale. He means to take it all, Lord Royce."

"Baelish," the man hissed. "Where is he?"

For the first time, Jaime met the man's eyes. Jaime smiled, and there was something powerful in it. "Trussed up in a trunk. Awaiting our judgment."

Royce nodded his approval. "And your Aunt?"

Sansa shrugged. "She murdered her husband, your Liege Lord. Her life is forfeit."

Royce agreed wholeheartedly.

"How do you propose we proceed?"

"I need to meet with my mother, quickly, first. After that, we need to deal with Lysa and Baelish. They are threats to the realm, Lord Royce, and neither can be allowed to live."

Royce was silent for a time, and he cocked his head. "Your father would be proud of you, Lady Sansa." He paused. "What do you expect afterward?"

She grinned. "An alliance between the Vale and the Lannisters. Along with the North and the Riverlands."

He arched his eyebrows at that. "That is asking a lot, Lady Sansa. Especially given our history."

"I promise you, Lord Royce, my cousin, will need you. And your daughter needs a husband, while my Uncle Edmure is also in need of a bride."

The man threw back his head and laughed. "You're a smart woman, Lady Sansa. Crafty."

She smiled widely and reached for his hand.

"My father had nothing but respect for you, Lord Royce. He spoke highly of you. I believe in an alliance between us. Our houses have history, but I am here, in front of you, trusting you with this information because I believe an alliance between our houses is best for the realm. There has been too much war, too much death, too much hardship."

Her brother was twenty-one and would be good for the North if he could agree to Sansa's terms and give up this ridiculous idea of being King of the North; he just wasn't cut out of the politics of the south.

Royce clasped her hand. Something had healed in him seeing Ned’s daughter command so much power.

"You speak almost as if you mean to take the throne one day, Lady Sansa."

She couldn't help the blush that stained her cheeks.

He leaned it. "I would support that." His eyes shot to Jaime. "And the King?"

Jaime held his gaze. "He will be dealt with."

Royce nodded, satisfied.

"I need time to think." He rose and bid them farewell. "I will send word tomorrow."

Sansa finally let a breath out, then worried incessantly until word came the next day that he believed them and would support them.

When the Starks and Tullys arrived, Lysa Arryn and Petyr Baelish would face justice for their crimes.

The rest - his daughter's marriage and an alliance between the Lannisters and the Vale - would wait until after they had dealt with Littlefinger and Lysa.

It was another three days before Tully, and Stark banners were spotted.

"You'll wear a hole in the ground, little wolf," Jaime said, exasperation colouring his words as he watched her pace inside their tent.

She gave him a grim little smile.

"What worries you the most?" he asked.

She let out a breath and turned to face him. He was so handsome, sitting in a chair, relaxed with his feet crossed. He wore his Lannister armour and colours constantly now, fully embracing his renewed role of heir to Casterly Rock.

Sansa was proud of him, admiring the time he spent with his men, the training he continued to do, the way he always made sure she was happy and content.

He'd taken to speaking to her stomach each evening, and she'd giggle her way through his monologues, but it was the sweetest thing she'd ever seen. She knew now she was unequivocally pregnant. She hadn't had her moonblood in almost two months and was always sick. Now that she wasn't travelling, it was bothersome, but not miserable. Both her and Jaime were beyond excited to think about children.

"My mother."

Jaime nodded and then encouraged her to speak about it. He pulled her into his lap.

"Together, we will come up with a plan."

Both knew that should Catelyn Stark publicly announce that Jaime was the father to Joffrey, everything would be destroyed.

Sansa had met with Lord Royce twice more in the past few days while waiting for her family, establishing a sincere trust and friendship with the man. They talked at length about her father, their great houses, and where it had all gone wrong.

Sansa felt deep in her bones that this was the correct path. So much could pain be laid at both Petyr's and, by extension, Lysa's feet.

Royce had told her at one point that he didn't trust the Lannisters and Sansa had thrown her head back and laughed.

He'd looked at her funny.

"Nor should you. Tywin is singularly devoted to his house, Cersei is a bitter and vile woman that would do anything for power, and Tyrion thinks he's smarter than he is."

Royce arched his eyebrow. "And Jaime Lannister? Your husband."

Sansa met his look. "Has made terrible choices and mistakes. But," she said, pausing to think. "But he's trying. He's a good man. A kind one. Honourable."

Royce snorted. "He is a Kingslayer and an oathbreaker, my dear."

Something warmed in Sansa at the endearment. She knew Royce was entirely hers at that moment. They were alone, standing on the small battlement that overlooked the Saltpans. Sansa reached for Lord Royce's hand, and he let her hold it.

"What I tell you, few men know, Lord Royce."

He nodded solemnly.

"King Aerys placed caches of wildfire around the city, and when Robert won the war, he screamed for hours for his pyromancer to burn them all, Lord Royce. Women. Children. Elderly. In their beds as they slept. And when Tywin arrived at the gates, he ordered Jaime to bring him his father's head." Her voice was steady, but her eyes filled with tears each time she thought about the choices Jaime had to make. Royce looked stunned. "He had a choice. Let the King burn a half a million people or break his vows. He was seventeen, My Lord.”

Royce's eyes had widened. He saw the truth in Sansa's blue ones. "Seven fucking hells. Why didn't he say anything?"

Sansa shrugged. "My father found him, sword wet with Aerys blood. He didn't even ask. Just gave him that awful name. Jaime saved the population of King's Landing and was called an oathbreaker. A man without honour. A Kingslayer."

They were silent for a time. "He lost his sword hand when he refused to allow the men who had captured him and Brienne of Tarth rape her. That was the price of his honour again."

Sansa let the tears come, and Royce pulled her roughly into his arms. "He's made mistakes, for sure. But he is a good man. And he is trying. I love him." Her voice, though her was smashed into his chest, travelled up to his ears.

Lord Royce thought about the implications at what Lady Sansa had just revealed. Jaime Lannister was a complex man and one that was clearly in love with his Northern wife and she with him. They made a formidable duo, and Lord Royce was happy she trusted him with the true story of Jaime’s heinous crime. Sansa had earned his complete loyalty.

"He's a better man with you at his side. You have my full support, my dear."

She nodded into his chest.

"I imagine both the Blackfish and Robb will also want their heads when they discover Lysa and Petyr's roles in the death of Ned." He cocked his head at her and tilted her chin. "Tell me you have a plan for your mother."

Lord Royce was not the greatest fan of Catelyn Stark. Neither of the Tully sister if he were, to be honest. Learning what Lysa had done to Jon only made him more suspicious of them both, not less. They had, for too long, allowed Littlefinger too many liberties with them.

She gave him a grim little smile and nodded, and he was satisfied with that.

Which was how Sansa found herself, along with Ser Marbrand and three of Jaime's most trusted men, approaching a small inn where a meeting had been set between the two of them the day the Starks had arrived in the Saltpans. Getting Catelyn on their side was critical.

When Sansa entered, she had to stop herself from rushing into her mother's arms. It had been years if she counted both lifetimes, since she saw her, and despite everything, despite all the questionable decisions Catelyn had made, she was her mother, and Sansa had missed her.

Instead, Catelyn was the one who broke down and embraced Sansa, pulling her against her and stroking her hair. When she finally recovered herself, she stepped back to observe her eldest daughter. Sansa had dressed deliberately in Lannister colours, and she wore Lady Joanna's necklace.

Catelyn frowned, but before she could say a word, Sansa did.

"He loves me, mother. Fully and completely." She took her mother's hand and pressed it to her stomach. "And he's given me a child."

Cat's eyes widened. She was intelligent if misguided, woman and her brain ran through the implications of such a statement. As much as she hated Jaime Lannister, there wasn't a better match for Sansa in the entire realm if what her daughter was saying was true. He was undoubtedly her social equal, unlike that woman Robb had married. That marriage still left a sour taste in Catelyn’s mouth when she thought about it.

She swallowed hard. "He is heir to Casterly Rock?"

Sansa nodded.

"Your child will inherit that seat?"

"Yes, mother."

"Do you love him?"

Sansa's eyes filled with tears. "Yes. So much."

"Oh, my dear child, come here," Cat said and pulled Sansa into her arms.

Sansa wept. For all of them. For her father, for her brothers who had died in her previous life, for her mother who had as well. So much pain. So much heartache.

That is when Jaime slipped into the inn and saw his wife's slim shoulders shaking. He came to them immediately and pulled Sansa into his arms.

"Come now, little wolf, it's not good for the baby," he said as Sansa curled up on his lap and wrapped her arms around him. She clung to him, and he comforted her, whispering into his ear, telling her how much he loved her.

Catelyn looked at them with shock, astonishment, and awe warring on her face.

Jaime held her as if she was the most precious thing he'd ever had in his arms. His look of devotion and love towards Sansa were unmistakable, and Sansa's ease with him was impossible to ignore. Then Catelyn noticed his missing hand. She'd heard rumours, of course, but it was startling to see.

"Your hand?"

He gave her a grim smile. "The price I paid for protecting Lady Brienne from rapers."

Catelyn frowned. "Where is Lady Brienne?"

Jaime looked pained. "Lost, I fear. We became separated. My hand was gangrenous. I just about died and was delirious when I made my escape."

Jaime had laid his other hand on Sansa's stomach, and she'd placed her overs his. Her tears had slowed.

"Better?"

She nodded and then blushed. He leaned down and kissed her, not caring that her mother sat but a few feet away.

Catelyn watched in astonishment. Jaime stroked Sansa's cheek.

"Thank you, Jaime."

"Always, my love."

Catelyn Stark was dumbfounded.

"It was a love match," she blurted out. She had been ill upon hearing that Tywin had married her daughter to the Kingslayer, but looking at them now, she could hardly imagine how anyone would have kept them apart.

"Your marriage. You love one another."

"It is, mother. And now we have a child on the way. A true, legitimate child," Sansa said, a plea in her voice.

Catelyn looked between the two of them. She knew Jaime's history. She could destroy him, but she knew she would be destroying her daughter and the child in her womb and any chance they had for a happy future. Despite her hatred for House Lannister, she loved Sansa more and could not do that. She gave them a tight nod.

"Who is the father of Cersei's children?" Catelyn asked, playing the game.

Sansa's shoulders almost slumped in relief. "Tygett Lannister, her uncle."

Catelyn rose. "Very well." She gave Jaime a hard look. "This was not what I had intended when I released you and told you to return my daughter to me."

Before either one could say anything, she swept from the room. Sansa all but slumped in Jaime's arms.

It was a further two days before word came that the first part of the parlay would begin. Today was the trial of Lysa Arryn and Petyr Baelish, although almost no one but Sansa, Royce and Jaime knew precisely what was set to happen. A large tent was erected outside the city walls, and Royce arranged for two boxes to hold them.

First to arrive were the Tullys and Starks. Edmure, Brynden, Catelyn, Robb and his wife, some of his loyal Northern bannermen, including the Umbers and the Glovers. Next came Lord Royce and five of his most loyal men. Finally, Jaime, Sansa, Kevan, and Ser Marbrand were there.

Robb almost snarled when Jaime entered the tent, but Sansa kept her hand firmly in her husband's.

Sansa narrowed her eyes. "Now is not the time, Robb."

She thought she would feel joy at seeing her brother, but all she felt was rage. Rage at everything he'd allowed to happen and rage at all she had suffered because of him.

"Why are we here with the Lannisters?" he all but spat at her.

"Shut it," came Royce's booming voice. Robb glared at the Vale knight but did as he was told.

Sansa shook her head at him. He wasn't a King. He was barely fit to be Lord of Winterfell. What had the Northern Lords been thinking naming him such?

Sansa stood and addressed them all.

"Our houses have a long and complicated history, and there is no love lost between us. Much blood has been spilled, and accusations on who is to blame.”

Sansa paused as all eyes were on her.

“There is one person who is responsible for the deaths of Jon Arryn and Ned Stark, as well as starting a war between our houses. That person had help with some of their actions, and they will be brought before you today for judgment."

Jaime was beaming at her. She was glorious, and he loved watching her in command. It bothered him not that she had taken on such a role.

Then Sansa nodded to Kevan and Lord Royce, who brought in both Petyr Baelish and Lysa Arryn.

Of course, the reactions were predictable.

Brynden Tully surged to his feet, demanding to know why his niece was trussed up like a common prisoner and Catelyn screeched that Petyr was her good friend.

"Sit," Jaime's voice boomed at them, joining his wife. "At least fucking listen to us and our evidence before you condemn our actions."

The Blackfish and Catelyn reluctantly took their seats. Robb had crossed his arms and glared at her sullenly.

"This had better be worth it, sister," Robb all but sneered at Sansa.

Her spine stiffened at the disrespect in her brother’s voice. She nodded to the two men and had them remove the gags from the mouths of the two prisoners who immediately stated their innocence and their mistreatment. Sansa didn't even listen to their lies.

When a sword was drawn and held to their throats, both stopped talking.

Sansa looked at her family and then at the two sitting before her.

"Lysa Arryn, you are here because you are accused of killing your husband, Lord Jon Arryn."

Lysa's eyes narrowed, and she almost hissed at Sansa. Sansa risked a look at her mother and the Blackfish. Her great-uncle looked ill, while Catelyn shocked.

"Surely that is a lie, Lysa?" the Blackfish pleaded, but he had a bad feeling. Lysa had refused to lend men to Robb's cause in the fight against the Lannisters, and he knew it was true by looking at Sansa and Lysa's faces. "Why?"

Lysa didn’t answer so Sansa did.

"Lord Arryn was becoming a problem for Lord Baelish for a variety of reasons. Littlefinger convinced Lady Arryn to murder her husband using a poison called Tears of Lys. With Lord Arryn gone, it would allow Lord Baelish to marry Lady Arryn and also prevent her husband from sending their son to squire with Stannis Baratheon."

Lysa glared at Sansa.

"Is this true?" Royce's voice commanded in the tent.

Lysa said nothing, all but confirming her guilt.

"I did nothing. She acted on her own, Catelyn. You must believe me." Lord Baelish swung his eyes to the woman he loved. "You know how much I love you, Catelyn. I would never betray you in such a way."

His eyes were pleading, his voice desperate. Sansa could see her mother open her mouth to say something when her uncle squeezed her hand and shook his head.

"No," he all but whispered to Catelyn.

Lysa's face had reddened at Littlefinger's declaration for her sister.

"Lies! It was all his idea. He said Jon needed to die. He promised me marriage and that we would rule the Vale together. It is why I fed my husband the poison Petyr gave me."

Shocked gasps rang the room. Catelyn and Edmure looked ill that their sister had just admitted to murdering her husband, Brynden grim, and Lord Royce murderous.

"Petyr, why?" came Catelyn's broken voice.

He was her oldest and dearest friend. She could scarce believe that he would do such a thing, but she could see the truth in his eyes, as they were darting around, looking for allies. He found none.

Before Littlefinger could say a word, Sansa spoke again.

"It gets worse, mother. Lord Baelish is responsible for the death of not one, but two hands."

She pinned her brother and her mother with a look.

"It was Lord Baelish that instructed Lady Arryn to write to you and father the letter claiming it was the Lannisters that killed Lord Arryn, planting the first seed of doubt between our houses. It was Lord Baelish that told you Lannisters sent an assassin to kill Bran, using the Valyrian steel catspaw dagger. But the Lannisters have only ever owned one Valyrian steel sword, Brightroar. Jaime, where is the catspaw dagger now?"

Her husband hauled Petyr to his feet and lifted his tunic. The belt and dagger were visible.

Catelyn paled.

"I've been set up. I've never seen such a dagger." Littlefinger's voice was panicked and reedy.

Sansa rolled her eyes.

"Please, do you honestly think if Tywin Lannister had such a weapon in his possession that the entire realm would not know about it? Or that his beloved eldest son wouldn't have been given such a weapon?"

The Blackfish snorted at her statement, knowing it to be accurate, and shot Sansa a grim smile. His niece was something to behold, and Brynden Tully thought there just might be hope for the Stark's yet with her at the helm.

"The weapon is yours, Lord Baelish, just like the assassin you sent. When you told my mother it was Tyrion Lannister, and she kidnapped him, you started a war between our families. A war that cost thousands of lives. A war that led my brother to abandon the North, losing our family seat and my brothers."

Robb looked ready to murder the man for that alone.

"But that is not all, is it? What did you tell my father as you held a knife to his throat? He should have never trusted you. Truer words have never been spoken."

Lord Baelish swallowed hard. "Please, Lady Sansa. I've always looked out for you." He looked desperate now.

Sansa laughed, bitter and harsh. "Yes, and how exactly was that again? By telling Cersei Lannister that my father was going to expose the secret of her children's true parentage. By betraying him to the King and Cersei. By allowing them to take his head? How was that looking out for me?"

Littlefinger swallowed hard, and Sansa could see the wheels turning in his head. If he didn't disgust her so much, she could appreciate the man and his intelligence.

"Sansa, you don't know the man you are married to." Her eyes met Petyr's, and she knew what he was about to say. She prayed her husband did not react. "The King is his son." Littlefinger all but yelled it into the room.

And there is was. The secret that could destroy them all. Jaime had the wherewithal to look bored and unaffected. He was slumped almost languid in a chair, allowing Sansa free reign. He didn't even react to the statement and Sansa breathed easier.

"He is not, Lord Baelish. The Queen Mother played you as well. Cersei wanted you to think that Joffrey was Jaime's, but that is not the truth."

For the first time, Petyr looked confused. And then worried. Very, very worried. Sansa's tone held nothing but complete confidence, and she saw Petyr start to sweat.

Kevan Lannister stood and looked shameful. His tone was low and steady, though, when he spoke. "He is a Lannister bastard, but not Jaime's. He is my brother's, Tygett."

"Lie!" Cried Petyr, desperate now. He tried to get Sansa to look at him, and when she wouldn't, swung his gaze to Catelyn. She pointedly ignored him.

Royce stood and agreed. "I have a raven from Tywin himself confirming such a tale."

Then to everyone's shock, Catelyn rose. "It's true. Ser Jaime told me when he was our prisoner."

"Seven fucking hells," the Blackfish muttered, shaking his head. He too glanced at Jaime Lannister. He'd heard the rumours; everyone had. But Jaime looked almost bored with the whole conversation.

"My sister is a consummate liar, Lord Baelish. You, of all people, should know that."

Littlefinger sputtered and paled, at a complete loss. "The King is a bastard and shouldn't be on the throne."

Sansa nodded. "Of that, we agree. But you didn't see it that way; not when you learned the truth, did you? You backed the bastard King even when my father found out he wasn't Robert's. You had my father arrested, and Joffrey took his head. I was there, and I saw it leave his body. He trusted you, Lord Baelish, as my mother did. You betrayed our house, again and again, bringing us to near ruin. And for what? Chaos?"

"Sweet Cat, you have to believe me. I had no idea what might happen…"

"Enough!" roared Robb, surging to his feet. He was sick at the thought that he had been manipulated into a war by the man in front of him. He had lost men, good men, his home, his brothers. And all because of Petyr Baelish.

"You will die for what you have done, Littlefinger."

Robb wanted to take his head right now.

"I demand a trial by combat."

Robb's grin was fierce and almost feral, and at that moment, he indeed looked like the Young Wolf they called him.

"We're not in the capital, Lord Baelish. Tomorrow at first light, both you and Lady Arryn will answer for your crimes with your lives."

Then he turned and stalked from the tent, his wolf and his wife at his back, along with his bannermen.

Catelyn felt ill and could no longer look at either her sister or the man whom she had considered her most loyal friend. The man who had all but killed her beloved husband. She followed Robb out along with her brother.

Edmure had said nothing and Sansa had to stop rolling her eyes at his uselessness. The two prisoners, shrieking and protesting, were led back to their temporary cells, leaving Kevan, Jaime, Sansa, Lord Royce, and the Blackfish.

"Well, that's a fucking mess," Brynden muttered, and the Vale knight grunted his agreement. Then he looked at his niece. "You are happy? Being married to him?" He jerked a thumb towards Jaime.

She nodded, and he gave her a small smile. He strode up to her and pulled her into his arms. "All right, niece. If he's the man you want."

"I do, Uncle. He's a good man. Please trust me."

The Blackfish said nothing; then, his eyes landed on Jaime. "If you hurt her…" he began to say, but Jaime cut him off by raising his one hand.

"I'd sooner lose my other hand than hurt her. She's my wife, the love of my life, and pregnant with my child. And one day, she'll be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms."

Both men's eyes widened at that. Then they grinned, realization dawning on them both.

"You have a plan," the Blackfish said, almost gleefully. He rubbed his hands together.

Sansa looked at Jaime and then at them.

"We do." She sighed. "There is more to discuss. Much more. Old wounds to heal. There has been so much fighting and hatred and lies. But so much stems from Littlefinger and his manipulations."

Brynden's eyes narrowed. "And what does the Great Lion think of such a plan?"

Sansa grinned, and Jaime laughed.

"My father is half in love with his good daughter already. I believe he was ready to seat her on the Throne within the first day of meeting her."

"Jaime," Sansa said, blushing, but both of them knew it was true. He hauled her closer to him and kissed her, fully on the lips, holding nothing back until the three older men shuffled uncomfortably.

Kevan laughed, though. "He does love you, Sansa. That is Lady Joanna's necklace she is wearing."

Every man in the room knew the symbolism in such a gesture.

"Your brother is learning - he is a good commander, but unskilled in politics," the Blackfish said. "And your mother will be reeling from this. She could never see Petyr for what he was." He, for one, wouldn't mourn either Lysa's or Petyr's deaths.

Sansa's face turned serious. "I know. Robb has bigger problems than the Lannisters. At least now we might finally be able to end this war that never should have started between our houses, and he can retake the North. He hasn't lost that much of his army."

Her uncle's gaze narrowed on Jaime. "And the Mountain?"

Her husband sighed. "My father has ordered him back to King's Landing." Before Brynden could protest, Jaime rushed on. "To be given to Dorne."

He scowled at that but knew the Red Viper would not let him live, not after what he had done to Elia and her children. It wasn't what the Blackfish wanted, but it was enough. He was needed here. His nephew was weak, and his niece, Catelyn, misguided at best. He worried about Robb and his ability to play the game of thrones. He once again thanked the seven gods for Sansa.

Jaime could see Sansa start to tire. He wrapped an arm around her middle.

"That's enough for today. Tomorrow at dawn, Lady Arryn and Littlefinger will pay. You need rest, Sansa."

Sansa nodded and leaned on him, and all three older men smiled in amusement at the Golden Lion's apparent affection and concern for his wife. When the couple left, the three turned to one another.

"They must take the throne," came Lord Royce's declaration and the other two heartily agreed.

When they got back to their tent, Jaime called for a bath for Sansa. Today had been emotional, and he washed her hair and body as she lounged in the warm water. Later, he made sure she ate, feeding her himself when she protested and then wrapped her in his arms and napped beside her, keeping his hand firmly planted on her stomach. They didn't speak much, both wanting to get through the grim task tomorrow. They slept in fits and starts and rose and dressed at dawn.

A makeshift block had been erected just outside the Castle walls, and Lysa and Petyr were led in. Both protested again, but no one was swayed.

Catelyn was pale and shaking, and Sansa felt for her mother. Her brother and her uncle were by her side, and Sansa was thankful for their presence here.

Robb looked murderous and kept flashing angry looks towards her and Jaime. He was so young, Sansa thought. So full of rage and bitterness and unable to see beyond his next move. It would be the death of him if she couldn’t get him to be reasonable.

When Lysa was pushed to her knees, it was Lord Royce that swung the sword. It had been his liege Lord that she had murdered, and he was the one who felt compelled to carry out the sentence. It was a brutal end to a miserable person that had caused so much damage, and he took no pleasure in it, only a feeling of rightness that justice had been served.

When it came time for Petyr, Jaime moved away from Sansa. He strode up to Robb and put his hand on his good brother's shoulder.

"Allow me."

"He was my father," Robb all but spat at him. "It should be me that swings the sword."

"He was. And my wife's father as well. She watched him lose his head, Lord Stark."

Robb was shaking, determined to carry out this task.

Jaime had another reason and one he could share with no one but Sansa. Petyr sold her to Ramsay Bolton and, for that alone, Jaime would have his head. Robb must have seen something in Jaime's eyes, for he nodded and stepped back.

Just before Jaime swung the sword, he leaned down. "I know how you look at my wife. I know you wanted her. And I know you would have used her in any way possible to get what you wanted. You will never harm her again."

Jaime met Sansa's eyes and saw her nod. She knew precisely why he was doing this.

Jaime let Sansa meet Petyr's eyes. She would not look away; she hadn't at Winterfell when she had pronounced the verdict now, and she wouldn't now. She walked up to him and spoke. "For the crimes against Houses Lannister and Houses Stark, you are sentenced to death, Lord Baelish."

She stepped back and nodded to her husband. He brought the sword down on Petyr's neck, and it was over.

He threw down his sword, not even bothering to look at the scene at his feet and strode to his wife. He carded his hand through her hair and slammed his lips down on hers. He didn't care that Robb protested or that others cheered; nothing mattered to him but Sansa.

"Never again," he whispered to her.

"Never again," she agreed.

The man who had caused so much pain, chaos, and heartache was dead. Now all Sansa and Jaime had to do was convince Robb and Catelyn Stark, along with Edmure Tully, that an alliance with their sworn enemy was in their best interest. But that would wait for a day.

Today, Jaime wanted nothing more than to be with his wife, having finally taken care of a man that had been the architect of so much of her pain.

There were others - Joffrey, Cersei, and Ramsay, to name a few - but it was a start.

He fit his hand in hers and walked away from the dead behind them and, for once, Sansa let herself be led, content that they had tomorrow to solve their next set of problems and felt a weight lift now that Petyr Baelish was dead. He had caused her some of the greatest pain in her previous life; he had used her and sold her to the Bolton's. Now he was dead, and Sansa had never been more powerful. 


	11. Chapter 11

As Jaime and Sansa walked away from the scene behind them, Sansa heard raised voices. She knew that chaos would reign as she let the voices fade away.

Jaime squeezed her hand as if he knew the riot of emotions that were swirling through her. Even though it had been a trial of sorts for Petyr and Lysa, many things had been revealed that would call into question decisions that had been made by her mother and Robb.

Sansa knew the fall out would be monumental, and her entire body was tense.

Sansa doubted whether either the Blackfish or Lord Royce would have much good to say to either one of them. And she could hardly blame them given the fallout from the choices that her mother and brother had made in the past few years.

Now that Petyr was dealt with, Sansa could focus her anger on her family. Because, she had come to realize, she was angry at them. So angry.

Being back in King's Landing and having the deal with Joffrey, Cersei, and Tywin again, Sansa couldn't believe that Robb had never traded Jaime for her. What kind of man kept a high valued prisoner when his sister was alone and friendless in such a place with enemies? What did that say about her brother?

She was practically shaking by the time they arrived back at their tent.

Jaime figured it was witnessing Petyr's death that had affected her, but when he asked her, she shook her head.

"My family."

He grimaced. He had his poor memories of his time as Robb Stark's captive. He still had nightmares thinking about that grey wolf snarling in his face as he’d been chained to a pole by his neck, unable to move. Jaime hadn’t spoken to anyone about his treatment at Stark hands.

"What?" Sansa said, looking at him. She saw the extreme discomfort on his face.

He said nothing, his lips pursed while he avoided meeting her eyes.

"Speak, husband." Sansa's tone brooked no argument and Jaime sighed.

Jaime gave her a look. "Your brother and mother ensured my time with them was… less than pleasant."

"What does that mean?" Sansa's eyes were narrowed. She wanted the truth, no matter how awful it was. She had her arms wrapped around her body, a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. Jaime knew so much of what had happened to her while she'd been the Lannister captive in King's Landing, but she realized now that they had rarely discussed his time in captivity. She wondered at that now and was determined to learn.

He ran a hand through his hair and met her eyes. He knew what he was about to say would hurt her. "I was chained to a pole, starved, mocked, and beaten."

Sansa paled. "No." She felt her stomach roil.

He nodded and said nothing, just stood there looking at her. She sunk into a chair and felt the bile rise. Both she and Jaime knew how she had been treated in King's Landing, but she had expected better of her family. Robb and her mother spoke of honour and the Stark and Tully name as if they were somehow better than everyone. She felt the tears come. Sansa knew she was emotional due to the pregnancy, but still. She felt sick for how he had been treated.

Jaime was there in an instant, kneeling in front of her, stroking her hair.

"Love, no. Do not take this on your shoulders. This had nothing to do with you. While I was captive here, you were captive in King's Landing."

She threw her arms around his neck and sobbed into it. It never stopped. The wounds that the Great Houses seemed to be willing to inflict upon one another appeared to be an endless cycle, and even her family wasn't immune from inflicting such cruelty on others.

Jaime lifted her and brought her to their bed, where he stretched them out together and let her cry. When she had wrung herself dry, she held on to him as he caressed her back. Finally, she started to speak.

"We need the North for our alliance. That is the goal. And to do that, I must expose my brother and my mother for the hypocrites they are."

Jaime grunted at her blunt assessment, knowing if anyone could do so, it would be Sansa. But he wondered at the cost. She loved her family, and this would hurt them, and her. He tilted her chin.

"Are you sure?"

She met his eyes. "Am I your family, Jaime?"

He startled a bit. "Yes. Gods, yes, Sansa. You're everything, love."

"And if you had to, would you swing the sword against Joffrey?"

Jaime didn't even hesitate. "Yes." Then he added. "And my sister." Sansa saw the truth in his eyes.

"Then how can you ask any less of me? I don't need Robb dead, but I need him to be put in his place. He is no King, Jaime. Anyone can see that. He needs to grow up. He left the North defenceless. He rushed into war, trusting only my mother on Littlefinger's word alone. He trusted Theon alone with his family, who betrayed him. He needs to understand that an alliance with us is the only way forward. Not this nonsense about him being King of the North. If we are to have any chance of stopping Daenerys, we must be united and Robb must learn his place.

Jaime grinned and then kissed her. "Gods, I love a smart woman."

She knew he loved her. She could see it in his eyes, in every gesture, each kiss. She'd never been loved the way she was by Jaime.

It made Sansa smile, which was his intention, and she giggled as he tickled her lightly, pressing kisses along her neck and shoulders until he worked his hand underneath her skirts and played with her, sinking fingers into her warm, wet heat. She moaned his name, and he told her how much he wanted her. She cried out his name, which he captured with his lips, and he was pleased to see her eyes dazed with sated desire and no longer hurt and angry.

"Tricky man, distracting me." She nipped at his lip, and he moaned again.

"Always, love." Jaime smiled lovingly at her before he stripped them both and sunk into her. They had a few hours to be together before dinner, and he planned on making them as enjoyable as possible for her. He would replace all their poor memories with good ones. When they finally dressed for dinner, Jaime saw that Sansa was happy and relaxed, which meant he’d achieved his goal.

That evening they dined with Kevan, Yohn, and Brynden. All three wanted to spend as much time as possible with the couple whom they knew would be the new Queen and King of the seven kingdoms. Each man knew Tywin Lannister's reputation, and his support of his heir and his new wife meant that the man would remove all obstacles to seat them where he wanted, and each man wanted to ensure they had a place at the table.

The dinner was intimate and cozy, although it was still a tent in which they dinned. Sansa wondered if the day would ever come when she could host these loyal allies of hers in her castle – at Casterly Rock. For some reason, she longed to be in Jaime’s childhood home, knowing she would be safe there.

Both Lord Royce and the Blackfish were suitably impressed with Sansa and Jaime, agreeing when they spoke later that Jaime had changed dramatically. His attitude was less pronounced. He was serious when it was required, he seemed interested in the politics of what they were attempting to undertake and not just the battles, and he was as devoted to his wife as they'd ever seen a man be. That alone would have been enough for both men to support such an alliance with the Lannisters. Both men adored Sansa and would do whatever necessary to see her succeed.

The Blackfish knew that whatever he recommended, Edmure would agree to, as the new Lord of Riverrun could hardly think for himself. It was his niece that he was worried about. Brynden had observed her yesterday and today, and he was concerned about the long term effects Petyr Baelish's death would have on her. The little whoremonger had trailed after her for far too long and Catelyn had never discouraged his attention.

"When will we meet with the others?" Lord Royce asked.

They needed to have a full conclave and sort out the issues of the North, and the alliances that would be forged here in the Riverlands.

Sansa gave him a tired smile. She was feeling her pregnancy during these long days. Escaping to Casterly Rock had never sounded as good as it did right now. She had spent almost three weeks on horseback to make it to the Saltpans, only to find herself living in a tent. She wanted this done and to have a proper bed and bath.

"As soon as possible."

"Send word that it will happen tomorrow," Lord Royce advised her, and she nodded. There was no need to wait.

"What of Robin?"

Sansa smiled, kindly at the man. "I'd assumed that you would train him, Lord Royce. He could scarcely find a better man for the job. I have no doubts that under your tutelage, he will become the man that is required of him."

"So, you won't be sending him to Stannis Baratheon?"

Sansa almost choked on her bite of food. "No, Lord Royce." She set down her fork. "Stannis is another problem we must deal with."

She looked at the two men seated at her table. They were missing the North, as she could not count on Robb. Technically, with her, Jaime, Lord Royce, and Uncle Brynden at dinner, the four regions that were represented were the ones that Sansa needed there to be an alliance between.

"Stannis Baratheon is the rightful heir to the Iron Throne." Both men's eyes widened at her statement, shocked when Sansa was so blunt. "But he is also alone, friendless, and stuck on Dragonstone with a Red Priestess. He is a religious fanatic that will never allow anyone any freedoms if they do not adhere to his imported religion from Essos." Sansa pinched her nose. "Further, he is not a man to inspire loyalty or devotion. He is not the man to unite the seven kingdoms. His bannermen choose Renly over him, so he had him murdered with blood magic."

Royce snorted at her description, with her Uncle chortled. Both men understood something more significant was afoot.

"And why is it important for the Seven Kingdoms to be united, Lady Sansa?" asked Lord Royce.

She met their eyes, and they could see how serious she was.

"The Wall wasn't simply built to keep Wildlings on the other side. By the same token, Daenerys Targaryen has three dragons and an Unsullied army at her back, last we heard. She has not taken her eyes off the throne and will do whatever possible to take back what she thinks is rightfully hers. There are greater threats to Westeros than noble houses fighting amongst themselves for scraps."

Her voice rose as she spoke, passion and determination in every word. This was a woman to bring people together, to rally men to her cause. A Queen whom men would fight and die for.

All three men sat in awe of her, while Jaime just smiled and reached for his hand.

"She's brilliant, isn't she?" The pride was more than evident in his voice. It never failed to amaze him how impressive Sansa was.

She let out a frustrated sigh, even as she smiled at him and his constant praise.

"We have so many enemies, bickering amongst ourselves accomplishes nothing." She had a scowl on her face, even thinking about dealing with her family tomorrow.

"I know, love. And I'm beside you. Every step of the way, Sansa. For all our days, wife." He stroked her cheek, and she leaned into his touch

"For all our days, Jaime."

All three men at their dinner just sat and gaped in awe at them. They were a stunning couple. When the three seasoned warriors left, they knew they had just witnessed something special. And each man vowed they would do whatever it was possible to see Sansa take her place as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

The next morning, fresh and crisp, the lords of the four regions at the Saltpans met in the courtyard of House Cox's small castle. There was a little weirwood present and tables set up to accommodate those present. Sansa and Jaime arrived first, and she took her place at the front of the courtyard with Jaime by her side. This was their show, and Sansa wanted no one to doubt it.

Ser Kevan and Ser Addam, along with a few of Jaime's loyal knights, occupied the table closest to them, and Ser Kevan, bless him, gave her a quick hug of support.

By far, the largest contingent was from the North. Robb hadn't yet lost his loyal bannermen at the Red Wedding. Unfortunately, he'd allowed each Lord and Lady from the North as well as their offspring, if present, to attend, making it almost overwhelmingly crowded.

The only saving grace was that Roose Bolton had not been invited to the Saltpans. His betrayal and that of his bastard son would soon be revealed. Sansa wondered why Robb hadn’t questions the lack of the Northern lord here, where all others were gathered.

Sansa shook her head at Robb's transparent posturing as if he thought a simple show of force would make her bend or bow to him. Then she realized that he'd done it to intimidate Jaime, not realizing she was the real power between them. She felt ill when she thought about how her brother had treated Jaime while his prisoner and wondered what he might do to him even know. The hatred in his eyes towards her husband was evident, and Sansa felt her stomach twist.

Robb glared at her, and she shook her head at him. Her mother and his wife accompanied him as well, and it took all her willpower not to rail at him right now for his stupidity concerning the woman he married. She hadn't even been introduced to her, but Sansa already knew she'd be hard-pressed to hold her tongue in her presence.

Her uncles Brynden and Edmure had a few loyal bannermen with them, but far fewer and sat at another table. Her great-uncle gave her a slight nod and a smile, affirming his support for her. She'd never been happier to see him.

Lord Royce and his knights and bannermen arrived last, and he came directly up to Sansa, hugging her and making no secret that she had his full support. She felt the tears prick her eyes, not knowing what she had possibly done to deserve his support. Again. It didn't seem to matter what life she was in; he would always be there for her.

When everyone was seated, Sansa turned and addressed them all.

"You have been invited here to the Saltpans not only to end the war between Houses Stark and Lannister formally but to enter a new alliance with the four great houses here today."

Before Sansa could even finish, Robb was on his feet. "I am a King, Sansa. And your brother. I did not approve of your marriage, and the North will never accept any alliance with the Lannisters."

Sansa narrowed her eyes at him.

"I do not need your acceptance, brother. My marriage was conducted in the Great Sept of Baelor. The Citadel notes it. My husband brings one of the greatest kingdoms into an alliance with our family through our marriage, along with wealth and a massive army. And I carry his heir."

A shocked gasp rose from the assembled crowd. Robb glowered at her. Sansa was not done. They stood glaring at one another.

"Beyond that, brother, my marriage was to the most eligible man in the seven kingdoms. Yours is an insult to House Stark." Sansa looked dismissively at her goodsister. "A nobody who brought you no lands, no army, and no alliances."

Robb reeled back in shock. "Sansa." He looked hurt and surprised that she would dare say anything about his choice of bride. He loved Talisa. She was older than him by a few years, foreign and so interesting. She hadn't cared that he was Lord Stark - just that he was a good man. 

Catelyn closed her eyes and prayed. She had begged Robb not to marry the woman, but he hadn't listened. It was a mockery to House Stark. Now he was paying the price for his foolishness. She opened her eyes to see her daughter's eyes flash towards her eldest son.

"You call yourself a King? You betrayed Lord Frey. You didn't honour your word, Robb. Do you think that is what kings do? How they act?" Robb stood there, open-mouthed. "Tell me, do you think Lord Frey the type of man to forgive or forget such a slight? You have to cross his bridge to go home, Robb. With your new wife from…" Sansa paused. "Gods, I don't even know. That's how little influence she has in Westeros."

"I love her!" Robb all but shouted.

"We don't marry for love, Robb," Sansa countered back. She shook her head. "Especially not when you are a king. Gods, how foolish can you be?"

Robb looked stunned. Then angry as he pointed to Jaime. "And he's not a foolish choice? The Lannisters have betrayed us, Sansa. And you married the enemy."

She laughed. "How?"

Robb sputtered. "The war…"

"The war was a lie, started by Petyr Baelish, believed by you and Mother. You left the North vulnerable. You left our home and our brothers without protection. They were attacked because you rode south to fight the Lannisters in a war that you were both manipulated into."

Catelyn was crying softly when Sansa whirled on her. "And you. Leaving two young sons, alone and defenceless to chase vengeance."

Sansa shook her head in disgust at her.

"He's still a Lannister, Sansa. The enemy. They are beneath us."

She turned back to Robb. "Beneath us? Is that why he was chained, beaten, and starved as your prisoner?"

Robb looked shocked, then chagrined, as if that was how prisoners were treated.

"No worries, brother." She sneered at Robb. "The King did the same to me. Upon each of your victories, he had me stripped and beaten before the court and mocked and taunted any time he could. Because my brother, the honourable Robb Stark, would not trade Jaime Lannister for his sister. Tell me, Robb, what type of king leaves his sister with his enemies while he plays at war? While he has a valuable prisoner, he could trade to get her back? Thank the gods they didn't know of my husband's treatment at your hands. It simply would have made my situation worse."

Robb's face had gone pale. "I don’t believe you. The King wouldn’t dare lay a finger on you, Sansa.”

Before she could even question her decision, Sansa ripped at her gown and showed him the top of her back. Granted, many of the scars were from Ramsay, but they served the purpose here. "Look, King Robb, at what your anger and inaction wrought. Tell me it was worth it. It was my blood, my pain, my torture that paid for your victories."

Robb looked sick at the mess that was her back. He shook his head. "I didn't know, Sansa.”

"You didn’t want to know. You liked having the Kingslayer as your prisoner. It is more than obvious that you don’t know nearly enough. Certainly not how the game is played. Right now, Roose Bolton sits in Harrenhal, plotting against you with Walder Frey. Theon betrayed you at his family's urgings, and then Lord Bolton's bastard son took Winterfell from him. You are playing at the game of thrones when you have already lost the war, Robb. You lost our home. You lost our brothers. You almost lost me, and Arya is still out there; only the gods know where."

"Sansa, enough," came Catelyn's voice, pain in each word. She had approached her two children who stood face to face.

Sansa turned back to her mother. She was shaking in rage. "No. You will not defend him. Every choice he has made with you by his side has been the wrong one. You trusted the wrong man, and he killed your husband, mother. Petyr Baelish set everything in motion, and you allowed it to happen because it pleased you to have Littlefinger's attention."

Catelyn's hand reached out and struck Sansa across the cheek. Before she could again, Jaime was there, capturing her wrist and bending it backward.

"You will never touch her again." Jaime let his eyes wander the crowd. "None of you will ever touch my wife again. I don't give a fuck if you proclaimed him a god or a king, she is my wife, and no one touches her in anger. Ever. You've done enough harm to her."

Jaime was in a rage. He couldn't imagine the stupidity of her family and how they refused to take any responsibility for their actions that had harmed her.

He looked to Robb, his voice rising as he thought of what Sansa had gone through at the hands of his family. And hers.

"I was a grown man, a knight. I was captured in battle. Had I the chance, I would have routed you and your army. And had you been my prisoner, I likely would have killed you." He paused, his chest heaving. He pointed to his wife. "She was alone. Friendless. Powerless. How could you leave her there?"

He felt the disgust for Robb Stark roil through his blood.

Robb had no answers for his actions. He could see now that he had been wrong, now that he saw the evidence of what they had done to his sister on her flesh. But he had no apology to give and no way to right such a wrong. He sat down, too stunned, shocked, heartbroken, and unsure of himself to say anything else. He risked looking at his northern bannermen, and they were looking at him with the same shame he felt.

Jaime realized he was still holding Catelyn Stark's hand.

"You disgust me," she leaned into him.

"Careful, Lady Stark. Already there are those that question your judgment. You spoke to us yesterday in front of all these Lords. You cannot take it back now," Jaime said softly into her ear.

He saw the hatred in her eyes and knew she would be trouble.

"You have broken every vow you've ever taken, Ser Jaime. You may have fooled me into trusting you yesterday, but that does not excuse the choices you have made. My husband told me how he found you, sword wet with the King's blood, lounging on the Iron Throne. House Stark and House Tully will never support the Lannisters. I pity my daughter for being shackled to the likes of you. You will never be worthy of her,” Catelyn all but spat in his face.

Jaime dropped her hand as if he'd been burned.

The loathing and vitriol with which she delivered this speech made Sansa reel back in horror.

Sansa saw the arrogant set to her husband's jaw and knew she needed to intervene. In the past, this was where Jaime would have done nothing to dissuade his accuser. The time for that had ended. Sansa was done living with his noble lie. It was for naught. Everyone needed to know precisely why a Targaryen on the throne was the worst possible idea for Westeros.

"You all call him Kingslayer,” Sansa began, looking each lord there in the eye. “Oathbreaker.” She had everyone’s attention on her. “A man without honour.”

Sansa laid a hand on Jaime’s shoulders. “He was seventeen, a guard to a mad King, and Houses had risen up in rebellion.”

Sansa fairly shook with her anger towards these hypocrites. “Some of you here today rode beside King Robert and my own father, to usurp the Dragon King. None of you are called Kingslayer.”

Sansa paused. “Some have said Jaime killed Aerys’ for his father. Other’s because he was consumed with blood lust. Still other’s to seat his sister on the throne should a new king emerge victorious. But no one you know the real reason.”

Sansa met Lord Royce’s eyes and saw the pride for her shining through.

“The King wanted to burn all of King's Landing. He'd placed stores of wildfire beneath the streets of his city. His pyromancer's worked on it for weeks. Jaime was left alone to guard the King. Seven and ten and left to guard a mad Targaryen king by himself."

Jaime had turned to face her when she'd started to speak. She could see the emotion war in his eyes at her public defence of him, in front of her friends and family. He held her eyes as she continued to speak. He would not interrupt her. He trusted her implicitly as she continued the story.

"Lord Tywin was at the city gates. Tell me, Uncle Brynden, Lord Royce, how jealous was King Aerys of the Great Lion?"

Both men grunted their agreement with that statement. Lord Royce had even moved to stand beside Sansa. She gave him a small, tight smile to thank him for his support.

Then she looked at her husband. "What was it the King was saying, Jaime? Burn them all?"

She saw all the love he had for her in his green eyes. "Sansa, you don't have to do this."

"It's past time, Jaime. Long past time."

She let her eyes wander the group. Everyone was captivated by her story.

"'Burn them all,' the Mad King raged for hours. That is what he intended to do. Burn the entire city to the ground, before he'd ever surrender. Men. Women. Children. Elderly. All of them. In their beds, as they slept."

Horrified gasps rang the group. Everyone knew how insane Aerys had been. The Starks and the North knew the price extracted by the Mad King when he wanted someone dead. Their liege lord and heir had been burned alive by the man.

"What else did he order you to do, Jaime?"

Jaime walked up to his wife now, and he stroked her cheek, eyes for her only. "He ordered me to bring him my father's head."

"Ahh, yes. A young knight, ordered to kill his father and let a city of half a million people burn. Innocent people, burning in their beds. What a choice," Sansa said, sympathy lacing each word. She let her hand cover his.

Then her eyes flashed to the Northern lords, and she turned. "Tell me, who among you would have allowed such an act to happen?" Not a single person would answer her.

"I thought not," Sansa said, almost smug in her declaration. "Because it was an impossible choice. Break his vow, break his _oath,_" she spat the word, "and save half a million people and his father. Or keep it, remain the loyal knight in the white cloak, and allow a city full of innocent people burn to death."

"Sansa, enough," Jaime said, tugging her into his arms.

"No, my love." She shook her head. She would purge this poison from their collective consciousness. Her husband's name would no longer be sullied throughout the kingdoms. “It is never enough, Jaime, for how they have all judged you.”

"I love my father, make no mistake," she continued, her voice shaking. "I wept for weeks after I was made to watch as they took his head. But when my father, the honourable Ned Stark, found Jaime Lannister with the king dead at his feet, he didn't even stop to ask. Not a single question as to why. He called him Kingslayer. Oathbreaker. A man without honour. Condemning my husband to be shamed when he was a hero. He kept his secret for over two decades, enduring the slurs and taunts..." Sansa was practically shaking with rage and despair, and Jaime folded her into his arms.

"Hush. That's enough, love. Enough. More than enough, Sansa. There will never be anyone who loves me like you, little wolf. No one."

"Lies," a Northman dared call out, and Jaime spun, fury flashing in his green eyes. His eyes lit on the sacred weirwood tree in the small courtyard, and something tugged at his memory from when he'd been in Winterfell and speaking with Bran Stark.

He stroked Sansa's cheek. "Trust me, wife?"

She nodded. She felt wrung dry and hollow, and only he made her feel anything.

He turned to face his accuser. "It is my understanding that those from the North believe a man cannot lie in front of a weirwood tree."

Jaime looked to Robb Stark for confirmation.

"Aye, that is true."

Robb had no idea what to think or feel. The entire morning had careened wildly off course, and Robb felt rudderless and unanchored from his previous reality. Now, if this latest story were true, then his treatment of Jaime Lannister was even worse than he'd believed only half an hour ago. The man could very well be one of the greatest heroes in Westerosi history, and he'd chained him and kept him worse than a dog when he'd been his prisoner. Worse, he'd had a chance to get Sansa back in exchange for Jaime, and he hadn't. His sister had paid in pain and blood for his arrogance. He felt positively ill.

Robb coughed, and his voice took on a more positive quality. "It is true that we believe a man cannot lie in front of the weirwood."

Jaime nodded and wandered towards the tree. He had lost so much of his faith over the years. Confidence in the seven, belief in himself, faith in his fellow man, but something was tugging him towards this symbol that the North still worshipped.

Lord Royce accompanied him, having an idea of what the Golden Lion wanted to prove. Jaime had never been more grateful for the Vale knight than he was right now. Lord Royce’s voice was strong and true.

"Ser Jaime, do you swear that the story Lady Sansa told is the truth? That you killed the Mad King to save half a million people from death?"

"I swear." His voice was proud and solid, and every man and woman in the courtyard heard the conviction it carried.

Then he knelt and bowed his head, and when he arose, he took his sword and drove it into the ground at the base of the sacred tree. Even he was stunned when a bright light emanated from his sword, bathing them all in healing warmth. It lasted but a moment but was a clear sign that the Old Gods blessed Jaime Lannister.

Sansa was by his side in a second.

"Jaime," she all but breathed his name as he looked first at her, then at his sword, stunned.

"Sansa." He swung her in his arms. "What was that?" he asked, the wonder on his face contagious.

Sansa grinned broadly. "A sign, perhaps, that you are exactly who you say you are. Who I know you to be. A good man, Jaime. The best man."

He kissed her, deeply, passionately, before they turned, still grinning at one another to see the looks of utter astonishment on the faces of every Lord and Lady before them.

Robb Stark rose and walked towards them. He's seen all he'd needed to. He held out his hand. "There will no longer be a King in the North, only Lord Stark, who is in an alliance with House Lannister."

Jaime clasped the young Lord's hand and pulled him close.

"Brother," he whispered into his ear, and Robb's eyes teared.

"Brother."

Lord Royce was next, having already given his reassurance the day before.

"The Vale stands with House Lannister and House Stark." All three men embraced warmly.

Edmure Tully stepped up next and pledged the Riverlands to the alliance that had just been formed.

Then the Blackfish was there, along with Kevan Lannister and all the Northern Lords still loyal to Robb. They fairly swarmed Jaime, astounded by what they had learned and seen.

Greatjon Umber was scowling only slightly at Robb so easily giving up his kingship, but even he wasn't that big of a fool. There was trouble brewing with the Freys and Boltons, that much was clear, and Lady Sansa seemed to be in a position of power now in the south.

It was long past time that the Northern lords returned home. Winter was coming, with crops needed to be harvested, and the North was weak. It ate at his guts that they had left it so weakened that Theon Greyjoy had been able to take Winterfell from the Starks.

Maege Mormont was happily embracing Sansa, congratulating her on marriage and the power the Northern woman commanded in the south. Maege Mormont loved strong women. She introduced Sansa to her daughter Dacey, a fierce woman who immediately dropped to her knee and pledged herself to Sansa as her sworn shield. Tears pricked at Sansa's eyes, recalling another such woman who had done the same thing, although the circumstances had been much different.

"Lady Sansa, I will shield your back and keep your counsel and give my life for yours if need be. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New." Dacey Mormont's head was bowed as she kneeled at Sansa's feet.

Sansa let the words fall from her lips, knowing them by heart.

"And I vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth, and meat and mead at my table. And I pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you dishonour. Rise, Lady Mormont." Sansa knew the woman would be loyal to her until her dying breath, and that no amount of Lannister gold could buy her off. This woman would never betray her to Cersei or Joffrey. Or the Tyrells.

"This is madness," came Catelyn Stark's voice over the din of men and women talking excitedly. Everyone stopped and stared at her. She was practically frothing at the mouth.

"All of you. This man, this vile excuse of a man, has broken every vow he ever took. His is not to be trusted. There is no one to verify his story."

It was all too much for her. The death of her sister and her dearest friend, even knowing what they had done, had broken something in Catelyn. After their deaths, she had begun to question everything. Her brain had been unable to reconcile the horrible things that Jaime and Sansa had accused them of with the people she knew them to be.

Petyr had always been there for her. It wasn't possible that he had done the things he'd been accused of, Catelyn was sure. By the time evening had rolled around, she was convinced that it was all a Lannister plot, including Sansa's marriage. If she accepted that Petyr was responsible for the war between their houses and her husband's death, then she would have to take her blame in those events.

And she could not.

Now Sansa wanted an alliance? With the very house that betrayed them? Catelyn could never allow that to happen. The Lannisters were their enemy, and they were at war. Catelyn knew the ugly truth about Jaime and his sister, and she knew that the story her daughter wove about his role in King Aerys' death was just more lies. Sansa had been blinded by him, and if she didn't do something quickly, Robb would be as well.

Catelyn stalked over to Robb. "You are a King. This is idiocy."

Robb looked at his mother as if he'd never truly seen her before. At that moment, he had a complete epiphany. She was the cause of everything that had gone wrong. He had believed her when she'd sworn that it had all been the Lannisters, that they had been the cause of everything terrible that had happened to their house. Looking at her, he could see the slight madness in her eyes.

Robb remembered when he'd first seen Jaime Lannister ride into Winterfell. The Golden Lion. He'd been legendary and Jon and he had been beyond excited to see him in the flesh.

It had broken something in Robb to learn that the Lannisters had started the war between their families. When he'd had Jaime as his prisoner, he'd been so angry that the knight he had worshiped as a boy had been so tarnished that he had taken it out on him in ways that now shamed him. Hearing about his sister's marriage had further enraged him as he thought it a grave insult to House Stark. He had come to the Saltpans with full intentions of challenging Jaime for the perceived insults to House Stark. He remembered when Jaime had wanted a duel, single combat when he'd been captured. Knowing he had lost his sword hand, Robb had believed he could have taken him and won.

But now, learning that Jaime had sacrificed his honour to save the entire population, it restored something in Robb. It felt like his worship of the man had been correct in the first place.

Robb also realized that he'd made grave mistakes – namely leaving Winterfell and trusting Theon chief amongst them. He was still smarting from Sansa's annihilation of his marriage. He loved his wife, but compared to his sister's marriage, his own was a jape. He knew he'd betrayed his house when he'd broken his word to Walder Frey, and he was concerned, gravely concerned, about the repercussions. The only way North was through the Twins.

"Enough," he said to his mother. When she went to open her mouth again, he gestured to two of his most loyal men. "Seize Catelyn Stark and take her away. She is to be held under guard until her future can be decided."

Her mouth dropped open. "Robb, no."

He shook his head at her. "I should have punished you when you released Jaime without my authority. Tell me, what is a fair price for your role in the heartache that has come to the North?"

She paled. "You wouldn't."

"It was your friend and your pleas that led us to war. I believed you when you said that the Lannisters attacked us. They were lies, told by a man that was obsessed with you," Robb fairly shouted at her.

Sansa joined her brother, and for once, the trueborn Starks were united. "It's true, Mother. You liked the attention Petyr gave you," Sansa argued. "Did you ever forgive father for Jon? Did you ever welcome the North into your heart? The ways of the Old Gods and the First Men?"

"Blasphemy," she all but spat at Sansa. "I am from the south. This display in front of the weirwood tree is nothing. It is a trick." She looked at her daughter. "Your husband is from the south. Do you think me a fool that he respects the ways of the North?"

Jaime was there in a second. "Do not presume to speak for me, Lady Stark. When my wife gives birth, our children will be of the North and the West. They will know both the Houses they come from and the ways of both."

"More pretty lies, Kingslayer," she seethed at him. "You believe in nothing. You as much admitted it to me when you were chained to that post."

Jaime stalked closer to her. "It was true what I said when I said it. But love changes a man, Lady Stark."

She spat in his face, and Jaime wiped it away. All Catelyn could see was the arrogant man who mocked her for failing to love Ned's bastard son. Her heart broke that this was her daughter's husband. No one would ever convince her that he was a worthy man for her daughter.

"Enough. Take her," Robb commanded, watching heartbroken as she was all but dragged away.

When she was gone, silence dominated the small courtyard, until Jaime finally spoke. "It is enough for today. We will meet in two days. There is more to discuss, marriage alliances and such to work out, but this is enough for now."

He received relieved nods from all those present. Much had been revealed today, and the tentative bonds of an alliance had been struck, but there was much to determine, and now the issue of Lady Stark to deal with. Jaime did not envy Robb Stark and what he would do with her.

When they reached their tent, Jaime realized half a day had passed. He was starving, which meant that Sansa must be as well. No sooner had he called for food, when she bolted to the chamber pot behind the screen and retched horribly. Jaime was there in an instant, even as she tried to push him away. She was so embarrassed that he had to see her like this.

"Let me, love," he crooned to her, brushing her hair back and stroking her back, feeling terrible as she heaved what little breakfast he had managed to get into her today. When she finally all but collapsed into his arms, she was pale and shaking. He got her water and then bellowed for the cook to brew her some of the Maester's tea. Bread with honey and a bit of cheese were also brought into their tent. When Kevan poked his head in, Jaime pulled him to the side.

"I want a midwife to see to her, Uncle. She is hardly able to keep a single thing down. I am worried."

Kevan nodded and left to find someone to help Lady Sansa. He knew both Tywin and Jaime would be devastated, along with Lady Sansa, if anything happened to the child she was carrying. Within the hour, a kindly elderly lady was there. She had a funny root in her hand and swore it, along with the mint in her pocket, would help Lady Sansa the most.

"Brew her broth as well. Chicken bone broth. Mild, but packed with nutrition. She might be able to sip on it."

Sansa nodded gratefully at the woman.

She gave Sansa a kind smile. "May I?" she said, indicating she wished to inspect her.

Sansa nodded shyly.

When Jaime did not attempt to leave, Sansa chuckled softly at the midwife's shocked face.

"We have no secrets, my husband and I. And he is devoted to me," Sansa said by way of explanation.

When the woman pulled back Sansa's shift and saw the scars on her stomach, she shot an accusatory glare at Jaime

"Not him, my good lady. Another man. An evil man," Sansa reassured her. “Never this one.”

The midwife nodded and continued her examination.

Jaime watched in fascination as the woman gently poked and prodded at Sansa and stared at the tiny swell of her stomach. His wife had sworn it was merely because she was bloated and stressed, not eating well, and drinking too much water and tea.

"I'd bet a gold dragon there are twins in your womb, My Lady," the old woman announced confidently after a time, putting Sansa's shift back in place. Both Jaime and Sansa looked stunned at such news. This woman had most likely never even seen a gold dragon.

There was something about this woman that seemed almost otherworldly as if she had more knowledge than she ought to. Given what had happened only moments before in front of the weirwood tree and their whole trip through time, Jaime and Sansa had learned not to question such things. If this fey woman thought they were having twins, neither one would bet against her.

She patted Sansa's stomach and slipped out, enjoying seeing a couple such as them so in love

Jaime joined Sansa on their bed, his eyes still filled with astonishment. "My father will be beside himself," he purred into her ear and heard her soft laugh. Jaime felt his pride swell. This woman that he loved, giving him not one, but two children. It was incredible.

"He will." Sansa could agree with that. The Great Lion would be overjoyed with two new heirs.

They were lost in each other, when a steward popped his head in their tent, coughing slightly. Most of their most loyal guards were used to catching them wrapped up in one another, so it wasn’t quite as scandalous as it might have been.

"Excuse me, My Lord. Robb Stark is asking to see you. Both of you," he said.

Jaime looked down at Sansa, whose stomach had finally settled. She was comfortable in the bed, and he could see the toll the past few weeks had taken on her, and finally, when she was able to rest, they were interrupted. She sighed heavily and sat up.

"We will see him."

Jaime frowned. "I'll not have him upsetting you."

Sansa nodded. She could see the conviction on his face. Jaime would be even more protective of her now that they suspected two children. Sansa loved it.

"My protective lion," she crooning to him as she stroked his cheek.

"You have no idea, little wolf. No idea." Jaime turned and pressed his lips to her palm before pulling her from the bed.

When Robb entered, Jaime had Sansa seated in a comfortable chair at the table, a cup of tea and some bread in front of her. He was pleased to see her sip the tea and nibble at the food there. The midwife had done wonders for her.

Robb grimaced and ran his hand through his hair. His eyes darted around the tent as if he didn't know where to look and especially not at them. Finally, exasperated with him, Sansa gestured to a chair.

"For godssake, sit, brother." She made her voice command it of him.

He grinned sheepishly at her and took his seat. He heaved out an aggravated breath.

"How can I ever make up for all I've done?" he all but blurted out after a moment.

Jaime took a seat next to his wife, stretched out and appearing entirely at ease.

For Robb, the last time he'd seen the Golden Lion recently, he had been starved, beaten and chained by his neck as his prisoner.

For Jaime, it had been longer. So much longer. His anger wasn't as potent, not nearly as powerful as the Young Wolf's.

Jaime was a happy man. It allowed him some leniency with the man that had treated him so horribly that would not have previously existed.

"You can't," came Jaime's voice. Robb's eyes darted to him, and the Kingslayer shrugged. "What is done is done. You can only move forward."

Frustrated, Robb got up and paced the tent. He was reeling. He spun back to them. "This entire war. It was a lie — a manipulation. Good men died. My brothers died. The North was taken from us." He was practically shouting at the end.

Sansa and Jaime clasped hands. He was so inexperienced when the two of them thought about all they had lived through the past few years after he died. Robb had trusted the wrong person, and it had almost cost him everything. At least he seemed to be willing to listen to them now.

"Robb," Sansa said, her voice gentle. She hadn't forgiven him completely, but he was here. And he was trying. He'd followed their mother, and it had been a massive mistake. But one that they might still be able to fix. Sansa knew that Rickon was most likely making his way to Last Hearth. Bran's journey was beyond the Wall, and she would do nothing to prevent that. She wasn't sure she could. Bran needed to become the three-eyed-raven; of that, she was sure.

Lord Royce had not found either Arya or Sandor as he'd made his way to the Saltpans. That was a worry. Sansa had also spoken to the Blackfish about her missing sister. She'd all but begged him that if he found her to alert her and Jaime first, before anyone else. Sansa had no idea what to do with Arya, but she would not be sending her anywhere her mother was. The idea of what Catelyn Stark might attempt to do once she had her other daughter in her grasp made Sansa's blood run cold.

Sansa also wanted to give her sister the freedom to make the choices she wanted, and they needed to discuss her kill list. Tywin Lannister was a name that had to be struck from her list. Immediately.

The other factor was Sandor Clegane. Both Jaime and Sandor had bonded with one another in the North and knew that no one would have their backs more than him. Jaime also wanted Sandor as a guard for his wife. He knew the man was devoted to her, and along with Dacey Mormont, it would go a long way to ensuring Sansa’s safety.

"What Sansa? How do I live with what was done to you? The King beat you. I didn't even try to get you back. I didn't want to. I had him, the Kingslayer. I'd beaten one of the greatest military minds in Westeros. My ego wouldn't allow him to go." It was a brutal dose of honestly from her brother.

Before Sansa could respond, Jaime shrugged. "To be fair, it was a brilliant move."

Robb just goggled at him. _Why was Jaime Lannister calling for his head after everything he'd done?_

Jaime grinned and leaned forward. "It was. I just might have to use it again, one day."

In truth, Robb's victory at the Whispering Wood had been why Jaime had abandoned Casterly Rock to the Unsullied and taken Hightower instead. Jaime always tried to learn from his mistakes. And his ego wasn't so massive that he couldn't admit that Robb's move hadn't been dazzling. Take your army where the enemy wasn’t.

"You had the Great Lion on the ropes, Lord Stark," Jaime said.

Robb sat again, in utter astonishment at the words coming from Jaime’s mouth. 

"My father was losing his war against you — two fronts; one against Stannis, one against the North. Had your Aunt added the Vale Knights, you would have routed us for sure.”

"But…" Robb didn't know what to say. He knew that he had been successful in the South, but to clear it stated so quickly by his once enemy was disorienting. "But it was all started because of a lie.”

"It was. And that makes it more tragic."

Jaime wondered at that moment where Ned Stark's sword was. Surely his father still had it. He hadn't quite yet melted it down, had he? Was it possible Robb would accept one of the two that Tywin was planning on making? Or would he see that as an insult that the ancestral sword of the North had been forged into two?

Jaime knew that should they face the Night King again, he would have a Valyrian steel sword in his hand. He had tolerance for his good brother, but it only went so far.

"Tell me, Lord Stark…" Jaime started to say before Robb interrupted him.

"Robb. My name is Robb." Their eyes met.

Jaime nodded. "Tell me, Robb, do you like the south?

Robb barked out a harsh laugh. "No."

Jaime reached for Sansa's hand, stroking it softly. "The North needs to be strong. There are good men at the Wall that need our support. An army of Wildlings coming south. And threats beyond any you can imagine."

Robb cocked his head. "And what of my enemies? The Frey's and the Bolton's?"

Jaime snorted. "We have armies to take them, Robb. They only had a chance against you because you were unaware of their treachery."

Robb shook his head, wondering if it were possible to get his men back home safe. To retake Winterfell.

As Jaime looked at him, he realized he was the same age as Joffrey - twenty. Hell at this point Sansa was older than him- her name day was soon, and she'd be twenty-three.

"Lord Frey is a vassal house to the Tully's. He is grasping beyond his reach, attempting to seize power from two powerful houses. His daughter, Roslin, will be married to Tyrion. Additionally, when our armies take the Twins from him, Lord Frey and his sons will not be allowed to live," Sansa announced, inserting herself back into the conversation

Robb looked shocked at Sansa's bloodthirsty nature. She shrugged. "Emmon Frey is married to Genna Lannister. He is safely at the Rock and will be loyal to our alliance once Walder and his other sons are dead. Trust me, Robb; he is not a man we can allow to live. And then we'd have the Twins."

"And Roose Bolton?"

Sansa paled, and Jaime pulled his wife into his lap. He knew she still had nightmares, and both Bolton men were still alive in this timeline.

"The Bolton's need to be eradicated from the earth. In the North, Ramsay was the one who attacked Winterfell, burning it. He has Theon, Robb. He is a vile, despicable man."

Sansa had paled considerably.

"Father never trusted the Bolton's."

"For good reason."

Robb met Sansa's gaze and his eyes filled with tears.

"And when I go North, after dealing with the Freys and the Boltons, do I build a monument for the two brothers I have failed, sister? How can you ever forgive me for their deaths?"

Sansa saw the gut-wrenching heartbreak on her brother's face. It was time he knew.

"They are alive. Our spies have spotted Rickon going North to Last Hearth. Bran makes his way North, as is his path, Robb."

"Surely you jape, sister?"

She shook her head.

"Rickon could be back in Winterfell within a month of you retaking the Castle, Robb. But the Bolton's must be dealt with. All of them. Not a single one can be left alive. It is imperative."

"Theon and this Ramsay will die, sister, this I promise you."

Sansa felt her heart clench. She knew what had been done to Theon; what was being done to him currently. Perhaps if and when Robb found him, he'd have some empathy for the Iron Born Lord. Sansa could only hope and pray.

Robb could see that his sister was exhausted. It was time for him to go, but he had one more topic to discuss with her.

He sat down across from them. Sansa was still on Jaime's lap and did not attempt to move. The Kingslayer stroked her back and kept her close. It was clear to everyone that they were in love. They might have made a brilliant political match and been social equals, but they also cared for one another.

"It's about my wife." Robb held up a hand before Sansa could speak. "You were right about me marrying her. Breaking my vow to the Freys and her bringing me nothing in our marriage. Seven hells, you're probably correct when you said she might actually cost me something." Robb sighed and locked eyes with her sister. "I love her, Sansa. And there was a time, no so long ago, when the sister I knew, well, that would have been enough. None of us could miss how much you wanted a golden prince. You loved the songs and poems, Sansa and you wanted a husband that loved you."

Sansa felt a small roll of shame thrum through her body. She wasn't wrong in her assessment of Robb's marriage, but she did understand love - and the desire for it. Before she could apologize, Robb rose and looked at Jaime and Sansa.

"You're right that she is not meant to be a Queen. She has no skill in running a castle, such as Winterfell. And mother hates her. It would break something in me if you hated her as well, Sansa. She is a good woman. She is intelligent and more level head, being a bit older than me."

She nodded at her brother, overcome with emotion. "Bring her by tomorrow, Robb. We will meet her."

He jerked his head once and then left their tent. Sansa all but collapsed in a tearful puddle in Jaime's lap. She felt awful and cried until she felt worn to the bone tired.

"Enough, little wolf. Time for sleep," Jaime said, rising and brining her to their bed. It was early evening, and the following days would prove no easier. When she was settled in, she closed her eyes as he stroked her cheek.

"Sleep, love."

"I love you, Jaime."

"I love you, little wolf."


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can our time travellers prevent the Red Wedding?

* * *

Robb wasted no time bringing his wife to Sansa and Jaime's tent the next morning. They were still breaking their fast when Jaime's steward announced the presence of Lord and Lady Stark. Sansa heaved a sigh and waved them in, wanting to get this done with.

Sansa had stewed all night about how to treat Robb's wife. It was more than her being a foreigner and more than her bringing nothing to the marriage. Sansa wasn't even that upset anymore that Robb had broken his vow to Walder Frey. The man was loathsome and untrustworthy.

No, what it all came down to the simple fact that Sansa doubted the woman had a single clue on how to be the wife to the Lord of Winterfell. Sansa knew exactly what running the Northern castle entailed. She’d done it by herself for years after she and Jon had taken it back from the Bolton’s. And it wasn’t something someone learned overnight, no matter how eager and enthusiastic they might be.

Sansa, like Jaime, like Robb, had been schooled her entire life for the position she now occupied. There was a reason high born children spent years learning from Septas and Maesters and it wasn’t just to keep them out of their parents way. Running a keep the size of Winterfell took an incredible amount of skill and work – both of which had been taught to Sansa and Robb while they had been growing up inside Winterfell’s walls and neither of which Sansa held any hope that this Talisa woman had.

Should she fail, should she not be up for such a task, more people than just Robb would suffer. The smallfolk, orphans, widows and elderly would all feel the cold bite of starvation and death should the new Lord and Lady Stark not be up to the challenge. It was a harsh truth and one Sansa was determined to deliver today, whether her brother wanted to hear it or not.

When Robb entered their dining tent, he gave Sansa a small smile and was clutching at the hand of a pretty dark-haired woman who was dressed in a simple dull brown frock and had her hair pulled back from face in a loose knot. Certainly Talisa Stark looked nothing like the next Lady of a great house.

Sansa and Jaime rose, almost as one, and indicated chairs for Robb and Talisa.

An awkward silence descended, and for once, Sansa was at a loss for words. It wasn't even like when Jon had ridden back into Winterfell with Dany and Sansa had to bite her tongue, lest she was burnt alive by the little queen's dragons. Then Sansa had plenty to say, just a cousin unwilling to hear her. At least Robb was trying.

"Talisa is a healer, Sansa," Robb said, and the small, unsure smile on his face almost broke Sansa. No matter what, Robb was her family. He was her brother. "She is older than I am, and has seen many things."

How many times had she wished for just one more moment with her brother? How many times had she wished he'd lived, if only then her anger could have had a proper outlet? How many times had she prayed to old gods and the new that Robb had lived to give her one more hug?

And now she had been given a second chance, and she was acting like the spoiled child.

As if Jaime knew her very thoughts, he gave a small shake of his head, as Sansa sighed.

"Where are you from, Lady Talisa?" Sansa asked politely and both Jaime and Sansa listened as the woman explained she had been born in Volantis, the oldest of the free cities.

"And how did you come to practice the healing arts?" Sansa asked, sipping at her mint tea. Her stomach had been unsettled again this morning and it was the only thing that kept the bile from rising.

Talisa gave a soft smile and told the story of her brother, who had almost died at a wedding when he was swimming in a river, only to be revived by a slave.

"Had I reported the man who saved his life, the slave's life would have been forfeit. That day I vowed to pursue the healing arts and never to live somewhere that slavery is acceptable. I have lived my life to serve others, and never thought I'd take a husband. But I fell in love with your brother, and at twenty-two, I was ready for a husband."

Sansa sighed. The woman was admirable, that much was clear. She clearly cared little for titles, gold or power. And she obviously loved Robb.

Sansa hated what she was about to ask the woman; how she had to hold them both to account for their actions. Sansa wished her brother had simply bedded the pretty healer and then went on to find a respectable bride fit for his station, but he had not.

"Your views and your story is admirable, Lady Stark," Sansa said, reaching for Jaime's hand.

She loved it when his long, elegant fingers stroked her, calming her nerves and settling her.

"But none of this will help you when you go North to Winterfell. Running a castle such as the one that has been in Stark hands for hundreds of years takes years of practice and learning. There are stores to be checked, disputes to settle, larders to fill. Those from the surrounding areas will knock on your door, demanding aid and you must determine if they are truly needy, or simply looking for a handout."

Talisa looked a bit startled, and even Robb frowned as if he’d forgotten how to run Winterfell when he’d been away, playing at war.

"Further, how much time have you spent learning about the noble families of Westeros?" Sansa asked, and Talisa shook her head.

"None, Lady Sansa. I don't believe in them."

Jaime snorted, which earned a glare from Robb, and another big sigh from Sansa, who pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Whether you believe in them or not, Lady Talisa, they are integral to ruling in Westeros. Noble families and alliances are something every child born into a house such as ours learns at the knees of their Maester. You are woefully unprepared for the role you are about to assume."

Robb went to protest, and Sansa held up a hand.

"Brother, I wish for nothing more than to have tea with your wife and get to know her, woman to woman. Unfortunately, I cannot be so shortsighted. The North is in disarray. Stannis Baratheon sits on his island and plots a way into Westeros, and you, brother, have given him a chance with the North as weak as it is."

Robb frowned. "I hadn't thought of that," he muttered and ran a hand through his curls. Sansa could see her words had struck their mark.

Sansa reached for his hand and gave him a soft smile. "My education in King’s Landing was brutal but first-rate, Robb. You must listen to me, to us,” Sansa pleaded, looking towards Jaime who nodded, “When we give you advice. Jaime and I have been preparing for these roles our entire lives.”

"I will, Sansa. I promise," Robb said, nodding eagerly, willing to promise anything for Sansa’s help.

Sansa glanced at Talisa, who was still frowning.

"My Lady, I apologize, but I must be blunt. I mean no disrespect, and I can see you love my brother. The evidence of your love is more than apparent by your swelling stomach. My brother needs a Lady Stark beside him. A woman who is willing to learn the ways of Westeros, to be his helpmate, to encourage him, to give him advice and to aid him in his rule. Are you prepared for such a task?"

Everyone in the tent held their breath and looked between the two women. When the woman from Volantis did not reply, Sansa spoke again.

"Your personal views are admirable, Lady Talisa, and in a different world, I would agree with you about classes and ranks of people. And the place of slavery in our society. But you and I do not have the luxury of living in that world. If you cannot be beside my brother as a true wife, you will only cause him more grief in the end."

"We are to have a child, Lady Sansa," Talisa said, voice quiet as her hands rested on her stomach.

Sansa nodded. "And once that child is born, they will be Robb's heir. But that does not mean their mother needs to be in their life. Their life or Robb's." It was a brutal and harsh truth.

Robb sucked in a breath and glared at Sansa, even as he knew she was right. The Northern Lords barely accepted his marriage; he knew there would be chaos if Talisa chose to ignore her role as Lady Stark.

When his wife's dark eyes met his, Robb saw a wealth of confusion and doubt in them, but underneath everything, love.

"Will you help me?" she asked softly.

Robb nodded and then dragged her into his arms, kissing her soundly, uncaring that Sansa and Jaime were there. When he finally let go of his wife, it was to see Jaime and Sansa looking at them with pleased expressions on their faces.

"I won't lie and tell you that it'll be easy," Sansa said, knowing what faced the two of them. She’d had so much less to work with after Ramsay had been killed and winter bore down on them. "But when the people in the North accept you, it will be worth it."

Robb set Talisa back down on her seat and then hauled Sansa out of hers, hugging his sister. "Thank you, Sansa," he whispered into her ear, his voice filled with untapped emotion. "I vow we will listen to your and Jaime's council, sister. And the North and the West will be united."

Sansa allowed herself to feel the comfort in Robb's arms. He'd made mistakes, and in the other lifetime, he'd paid with his life, and with the lives of his wife and his unborn child.

But now, with this second chance, Sansa and Jaime had saved all three and earned a valuable ally in the North. Sansa hugged him back before finally releasing him. They had a few hours before their conclave and not enough time to start educating Robb and Talisa Stark on what the North needed.

Sansa shot Jaime a smile, noting his grimace and then watched as her husband shook his head. He rose and pressed a kiss to her lips.

"Whatever you need, little wolf, whatever you need."

Sansa laughed, knowing how much Jaime hated such meetings, and yet, he would do so for her.

Sansa nodded at Jaime as he called for another tea for her and Talisa, ale for him and Rob, and food to see them through what was sure to be another endless discussion.

But as Jaime sat and sipped his ale, he watched his wife and shook his head, realizing he would do just about anything for her. Where once he'd said those fateful words, _the things he did for love_, as he'd pushed Bran Stark from the tower window, now those words applied in a different context to the woman who was his wife.

Because when Jaime Lannister loved a woman, it was fully and wholly, without limitations or conditions, and Sansa Stark had his entire heart. Which was why Jaime crossed his legs and settled in for what he was sure was to be an endlessly boring discussion on ruling in the North.

* * *

"Gods, you have magnificent breasts wife," Jaime murmured to Sansa, as he drew the pebbled tip of her breast into his mouth, laving it and biting down gently, loving it when Sansa arched up towards his mouth, seeking more. She was a constant wonder to him, how she welcomed passion so openly after everything she had been through.

Bed play with Sansa, with his wife, was decidedly different and more enjoyable than it had ever been with Cersei. There was something freeing about being able to have his wife whenever he wanted, and not have it be a secret, that Jaime revelled in. There was nothing secretive, or dirty or wrong in their coupling. And Jaime took every opportunity to couple with his wife.

When Jaime was with Sansa, it felt like a cleansing, and each time that he made Sansa cry out in pleasure, or when he could chase away some of the burdens that weighed her down, he felt reborn in her love. Jaime lived to hear his name whispered from her lips.

"Jaime," she said, his name breathless on her lips.

He momentarily let her nipple pop free of his mouth, and smiled at her, palming one of her breasts and testing the new weight of it. They had grown by the day as her pregnancy progressed. He loved to spend time every day, noting the changes to her body as she kept their children safe in her womb. Her figure continued to grow lusher before his very eyes, and Jaime swore, he walked around with his cock half hard most days each time he caught sight of her.

Of course, now that they were back in time when food was plentiful, and Sansa was neither being starved by Ramsay nor conserving food for the North, the new curves that she had added to her body had only fueled Jaime's desire for her.

"I'll be most jealous when our children claim them for themselves," Jaime said, winking at Sansa as he bent to suckle her again.

Sansa giggled at her husband, even as she blushed. Jaime was the most incorrigible man, but gods, did she love him and what he did to her.

"It's true, dear wife. Soon these magnificent breasts will be the property of our children, and I'll have you know, I will sorely miss them," Jaime continued, sweeping his lips down her body, pressing kisses to the soft swell of Sansa's stomach.

His hand rested there for a moment, as their eyes locked. Here, safely inside Sansa, were the lives they had created. Their children. Jaime kissed the swell again and again.

"Although I suppose there will be other temping valleys for me to explore," he said when he finally lifted his head from her stomach. He was smirking at her, his voice full of desire and promise.

Sansa canted her hips upwards, seeking more from him, knowing his tongue, lips and teeth could bring her to a staggering ending just as much as his cock.

"Jaime, please," she said, anchoring herself to him by gripping his hair, pinning his mouth to her core.

Jaime would have grinned had he not be wholly focused on his task at hand.

"I suppose I'll just have to content myself with feasting somewhere else," he said, rolling her tangy taste in his mouth as his tongue swiped through her core.

The sounds he made as he consumed her were indecent, Sansa knew, just like her moans and cries could most likely be heard beyond their tent.

But for once in her life, Sansa simply did not care. She had been too hurt for too long to reject any comfort and delight she now found in her husband's arms. She had no shame in how much they loved one another.

"Wife I swear you grow tastier the larger you grow with our children," Jaime said, making Sansa blush even as she growled at him to continue his ministrations.

Such a statement should scandalize her, but it just made her feel incredible that he loved her in such a way to discern her changing taste!

_What type of man did such a thing?_ Sansa thought as he thrust his tongue deep inside her.

In truth, it was no hardship to Jaime to worship her. He dreamed of the day he could take her to Casterly Rock and have her there, again and again, with no threat and no war looming over them. The bathhouse in the family wing along could keep them occupied for days, along with the Lord's chambers, the beach on the Sunset Sea and even the great table in the dining hall. He wanted her everywhere.

And then, when they were starving for food, he’d call down to the kitchens and have them send decadent plates of food to their rooms, where he’d feed her from his own hand. Juicy peaches, tart lemons and the most succulent meats in Westeros.

For now, though, his task was the chase the tension that the meeting with her brother had created.

Jaime knew his wife hated to be at odds with him, and yet, she regretted not a single word that had fallen from her mouth today.

Robb's marriage was a disaster, and the sooner both he and his new wife recognized how out of their league they were, the better. As it stood, they had left on good terms, Sansa harsh words had been taken seriously by both Robb and Talisa Stark.

Jaime knew they had no time for mistakes that the new Lord and Lady of Winterfell might make due to their inexperience. It weighed on Sansa to leave her beloved Winterfell in Robb’s hands.

So in the meantime, Jaime would have her chase her pleasure, where he knew she would lose herself in what he could make her feel. It was a reprieve he knew she needed and one he was more than willing to give her. Daily.

When Sansa's breathing had finally slowed slightly from her first two peaks, Jaime kneeled above her, face and lips wet with her spendings. He licked his lips and saw her eyes flare wide.

"You are delicious, little wolf," Jaime said, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

"Let me taste myself," she whispered.

Jaime did not react outwardly to her boldness, but inside he shouted with glee.

She trusted him.

She loved him.

And she was a passionate woman who was starting to trust her desires.

Jaime felt such a surge of love for her that he was almost overcome.

"Gladly wife," Jaime said softly, fitting both his lips and his form over her. Sansa nipped at him, tasting herself on him, and the little moan she let loose, had Jaime nudging her legs apart, so he bumped her entrance.

"Now, husband," Sansa said, parting her legs and wrapping them around his midsection as he slid inside her tight, velvet heat.

Jaime dropped his forehead to hers, savouring the feeling of being so joined with her. It never failed to astonish him, the depth of emotions he held for this woman.

This one woman.

Sansa.

When he pulled back, he dragged himself against her sensitive flesh, her passage all that much tighter from the two peaks she'd already had. Every time he was with her, it got better and better. Soon Jaime's pace and thrusts increased, his wife meeting him with each parry of her hips so that they moved in perfect accord, eyes locked and lost in one another.

"My love," Jaime whispered to her, leaning down to kiss her gently even as his body sped up, so passion and gentleness worked in perfect harmony as he made love to her. He took her with a frenzied need that he had never felt before, needing to be as close to her as possible, deep inside her and having no idea where one started and the other ended.

"My lion," Sansa crooned back, reaching a hand up to brush it across his face, her body open and accepting of his, as pounded into her, again and again.

"There is nothing but us, Sansa. Nothing in this world I wouldn't do for you. No place I won't find you, nothing I wouldn't do to keep you safe," Jaime promised, willing his words to imprint themselves on her very soul.

"You are my everything," Sansa responded, heart, swelling with such love, such devotion to this man in her arms. "I will always love you, and only you. For all my days, Jaime."

He erased all the bad, replaced all the horrid memories with something good and bright and new. Jaime gave her hope for the future; for their future.

"Sansa, Sansa, Sansa," Jaime chanted, so lost in the moment as he felt his peak rush upon him, his spine-tingling with such sensation that he bellowed out a roar as she tightened on him and screamed, pulling him even deeper into her welcoming heat as she peaked hard again.

With only the barest recognition of their positions, Jaime kept himself deep inside Sansa as he rolled them, so she was splayed across his chest. Her hair was a dishevelled mess as she panted on his chest. He felt her press kisses there, and he carded his hands through her hair and dragged her closer to his lips.

"Gods, you're temping," he said, completely in awe of her. His cock hardened inside her, even as he felt their spendings leak from her entrance.

Sansa's eyes widened and then she grinned, keeping Jaime deep inside her and began to ride him.

"Sansa, love," Jaime said, unable to do anything more but lock the fingers of his one hand with hers as she put her other hand on his chest and ground them both to another shattering orgasm until they were both finally so spent they could barely move from one another.

Jaime had Sansa tucked up against his chest, his strong arms banded around her body as he held her close.

"My wild wolf," he purred into her ear, loving it when she let out a small giggle.

"That was quite scandalous, wasn't it," she said, turning a bit and biting her lip, looking slightly worried.

Jaime kissed the tip of her nose.

"Love do not do that. Nothing about us is scandalous, and especially not something that brings us so much pleasure."

They had one more meeting scheduled that afternoon to work out the details of this alliance and Jaime wanted his wife relaxed and in the best mood possible. Jaime would not feel guilty for stealing this time with her.

When they entered the tent where the conclave was being held, Dacey Mormont was at Sansa's side, and his wife took her position at the head of the table. She took one look at the assembled lords and got down to business, leaving all those in the room in awe of her brilliance.

By the time darkness fell, it had been decided that the Vale knights would hold just outside of Harrenhal, ready to take the castle when Roose vacated it and rode for the Twins.

A raven would be sent to Walder Frey, informing him that both Robb Stark and Edmure Tully himself had agreed to the marriage between Edmure and Roslin. In truth, Roslin was destined for Tyrion, while Edmure would marry Yohn Royce's daughter Ysilla, but neither the Frey's nor the Bolton's would be informed of the change in plans for obvious reasons.

Robb and Edmure would ride for the Twins, but unlike in their previous timeline, this time Jaime and Sansa would be waiting behind Roose Bolton with twenty thousand Lannister men.

Sansa knew that this is where Sandor and Arya had ended up, and she prayed they were there again. She wanted Arya safe as soon as possible.

"And after we take care of the traitors? What then?" Greatjon Umber asked, enraged at Roose Bolton's deception.

"The Boltons belong to the North, Lord Umber. I trust my brother to meet out justice as he sees fit," Sansa said, feeling satisfaction knowing that Roose's days were numbered. Thinking about what the man had done to her family in their other timeline turned Sansa’s stomach.

It was even worse having met Robb's wife and seen her pregnant stomach, to think about what had happened to her.

"Roose is not the only Bolton that needs to be eradicated from this world," Jaime growled and met the eyes of the Northern Lord. "As we speak, Lord Rickon Stark makes for Last Hearth, Lord Umber, seeking refuge from Ramsay Snow who stalks through the North, maiming and torturing people."

Sansa shuddered. "Ramsay is a vile creature. He is truly evil and delights in cruel torments and torture, and he terrorizes everyone wherever he goes. He is not to be trusted. He is cunning and lethal and will need to be killed as soon as Robb returns home."

"It will be done, sister," Robb said, disturbed by some of the stories Sansa and Jaime had shared about Roose Bolton's bastard son. In truth, Robb wanted nothing more than to wipe every Bolton from the map, and wouldn't stop until he had done so. The idea of what would have awaited them at the Twins had Sansa and Jaime not arrived and put a new plan in place that made Robb's blood run cold.

"If Rickon Stark makes for Last Hearth, he'll be safe," Greatjon said, earning a relieved look from Sansa. She nodded.

"Roose knows if he kills both Robb and Rickon, that leaves only Bran as my father's trueborn son. Bran is headed for the Wall, and will soon be lost to us," Sansa added, somewhat unnecessarily. "It is crucial that House Bolton is stopped at the Twins."

The lords present murmured agreement filtered through the tent.

"And dear niece, who holds the Twins when they are out of Frey hands?" her Uncle asked, a bushy arched eyebrow directed her way.

"Genna Lannister and her Frey husband, Eamon, will be sent there," Sansa concluded and heard discontented grumbles.

"Last I checked, the Lannister army is the one with twenty thousand men outside these walls. Neither the North nor the Riverlands can mount any such force. It is us that brought you this warning, else more of you would be dead, throats and bellies slit like pigs at slaughter," Jaime said, somewhat arrogantly, finally stepping into the conversation as it were.

When those from the North and the Riverlands glared at him, he only shrugged.

"You cannot expect Tywin Lannister to demand nothing in return for essentially saving your lives," Jaime continued, looking every inch the Lannister lord in his red, gold and black armour. Of course, they were 'saving' House Stark and House Tully from the deception orchestrated by Tywin Lannister himself, but neither Sansa nor Jaime felt it was necessary to mention that.

Sansa almost snorted at Jaime's arrogant countenance, if she didn't know it was needed.

Sansa still did not trust all the Northern houses. The Karstarks, Glovers and Umbers all betrayed both Robb and Jon at some point in time. Sansa would much rather seat Jaime's aunt at the Twins, knowing the woman would never defy Tywin.

"And my marriage?" Edmure asked. Both Sansa and Yohn explained about Ysilla Royce and that if Edmure agreed, they would be formally betrothed although the woman was living at Runestone in the Vale. When Edmure simply nodded, Sansa let out a relieved breath. She had no idea where her Uncle's head was at these days.

"Now, what are we to do about Lady Stark?" came the Blackfish's voice, addressing the final issue before them.

Sansa and Jaime shared a look before Sansa sighed.

"She will be sent to Casterly Rock as a prisoner of House Lannister," Sansa declared. The only protest came from her Uncle Edmure.

"Sansa, surely you cannot be serious!" he exclaimed, showing a backbone for the first time all evening.

"What would you suggest, Uncle, for her role in the events that transpired between Houses Stark and Lannister and her blatant hatred of my husband?"

"And my wife," Robb added. He was feeling much more confident since his conversation with Sansa this morning. His sister was a remarkable woman, and Robb felt as long as they had her help, they would manage fine in the North.

"She should be given to us at Riverrun. She is our responsibility," Edmure insisted, refusing to look at either Jaime or Sansa.

"I'm sorry, Uncle, but that is not possible," Sansa said, hoping her voice was gentle enough to calm his ire. She watched as Edmure looked to Brynden, and the Blackfish shook his head.

"I promise she will be held in comfort and not mistreated," Jaime said to the men from the Riverlands. Personally, Jaime would like nothing more than to run Catelyn Stark through, but for now, this was the best option. Once she was at the Rock, she might as well be in Essos; the castle was that impenetrable.

Since the most pressing matters had been decided, Jaime stood and declared that the Stark and Tully forces should leave at first light for the Twins; the Lannister's would follow once Bolton forces passed by the Saltpans. With things in motion, Jaime and Sansa took their leave, prepared to wait for the moment to exact their revenge.

That night, when Sansa was snuggled deep in his arms, Jaime asked if she was happy with the outcome of the conclave.

"I am Jaime. So far, at least."

Jaime knew she worried about what might happen at the Twins. It was the most dangerous part of their plan, and despite Sansa's anger and annoyance towards Robb, Jaime could see she was well on her way to forgiving her brother. It was one of her most exceptional features; her ability to forgive those who had harmed her and give them a second chance. She'd done it with his father, his brother and now hers.

"Love you, little wolf," Jaime whispered into her ear.

"Love you, my lion," she responded.

* * *

As ordered, the next morning, Jaime and Sansa saddled their horses and watched as those from the North and the Riverlands departed from the Saltpans. Sansa had clutched her brother hard, praying she'd see him again, but uncertain of the future. She was sending him to the very place where he'd been murdered, and she had no guarantees the same thing wouldn't happen this time.

Within a week, word came that Roose Bolton and his forces had arrived at the Crossroads Inn, allowing the rest of their plan to be put into motion.

Catelyn Stark was sent to Casterly Rock with Lannister guards via the River road. Jaime would have her nowhere near King’s Landing. The last thing he needed was for her to be captured by either Cersei or Tyrell forces.

Sansa barely even reacted as they both watched her mother depart in the second carriage that had brought Petyr Baelish to the Saltpans. The glare that Catelyn had bestowed upon her daughter made it more than apparent that Sansa and her would remain at odds for some time. The woman had glared the entire time Jaime had explained where she was being taken, and he swore she acted as if he was sending her to the black cells themselves instead of the greatest keep in the Kingdom.

When they reached the King's Road, Royce turned south with the Vale knights to take Harrenhal, while Jaime and Sansa turned North to pinch the Bolton's between Robb and Jaime's armies.

It took two miserable weeks to reach the flat area just outside the Twins. Each day Sansa had felt worse on horseback until Jaime, finally beyond exasperated with her, insisted she ride in the carriage. She longed for a proper keep, with a proper bed and a proper bath. Being pregnant with twins, and travelling through Westeros as the season was changing to Winter, was not something Sansa would recommend- to anyone.

Finally, they were able to camp a day away from the Twin castles controlled by the loathsome Walder Frey.

"I really hate this man," Jaime was muttering to Kevan, Addam and Sansa that night in their dining tent. Jaime remembered how dirty he’d felt when Lord Frey had compared his killing Robb Stark with what Jaime had done to Aerys.

Word had come from Robb that they had been welcomed inside the castle, with the wedding of Roslin and Edmure scheduled in three days, so Lannister forces camped. And waited.

"He's a vile man," Kevan agreed wholeheartedly.

Kevan still remembered how enraged Tywin had been with their father had married Genna to a Frey. It's why Kevan had been surprised when Tywin had been willing to use the Frey's to do his dirty work when it came to the Young Wolf.

Personally, Kevan much preferred the marriage of Jaime and Sansa, easing tension between the two houses. Additionally, hearing just how much both houses had been manipulated into going to war, it had sat uneasily with Kevan.

Jaime was tenser now that they were within spitting distance of the Twins, and the wedding drew near. He knew, as well as his wife, that these next few days would decide the future of House Stark. If they miscalculated and Robb Stark died here, again, as he had in their previous life, the entire North would be thrown into chaos.

Jaime and Addam had plans to push the Lannister forces straight into the castles the moment the wedding began.

When the sun finally set on the evening of the wedding, Jaime kissed Sansa hard and gave her a moment to cling to him.

"Save him, Jaime," Sansa whispered to her husband, who promised he'd try.

With one last kiss, Jaime was gone, having left Sansa in the capable hands of Kevan and Dacey Mormont and a host of Lannister guards. The last thing anyone needed was Sansa being kidnapped in the chaos of the night.

When Jaime arrived at the twin castles, he was disgusted to see the arrogance of both Houses Frey and Bolton. They had barely left a guard outside their walls, all of them too focused on the bloodshed promised inside. Jaime's forces cut what few guards remained around the castle and the bridge with ease.

The stone bridge was the only crossing point over the Green Fork for hundreds of miles, but Stark men inside the Water Tower had overtaken the Frey's there, allowing Jaime's army to ride three abreast as they stormed the two identical stone castles that were held by House Frey.

When Jaime slid off his horse and sprinted towards the Great Hall, he heard a rousing cheer for the bride and groom and knew there were mere moments before the traitors would strike.

Pushing open the doors to the hall where the Frey's held court, it was hard to say who was more startled to see Jaime Lannister there in the flesh – Roose Bolton or Old Walder Frey. For a moment both men wondered if Lord Tywin had sent his son to witness their compliance with his plans, until they took in the look on Jaime’s face and realized he was there for them, and not Robb Stark.

Roose glanced towards Robb, disbelief warring with anger on his face, as he drew his weapon. Roose twirled back to Jaime and pointed his sword at the Golden Lion. When Roose finally allowed his eyes to meet Robb’s, they were scrambling to find a way out of this mess.

"My Lord, the Lannister's have come for you," Roose cried.

Jaime threw his head back in laughter as he sheathed his sword and started to clap. Other Northern Lords, along with Lannister forces and those from the Riverlands quickly divested the Frey's and Bolton's of their weapons, until it was only Roose, standing alone, his face wild with rage as he clutched at his sword. 

"Lord Tywin promised…"

Jaime held up his golden hand and waved it in Roose Bolton's face. "My Lord Bolton, did you honestly believe my father would want anything to do with the house that took his beloved son's sword hand?" Roose paled and swallowed hard.

Jaime's jaw was tight with rage, looking at the man who had wed Sansa to his vile son, knowing the sadistic freak that he was. Jaime wanted nothing more than to tear the man apart, limb from limb. But he had agreed that Robb would meet out Northern justice to Roose Bolton, so Jaime could do little more than smirk at him and take minimal pleasure in the fact that his entire plan had fallen apart.

Roose snarled and turned back to Robb, eyes desperate and almost crazy. Jaime leaned in. “The Lannister’s send their regards, Lord Bolton, although I’m not sure you want them, seeing as the mess you’ve got yourself in.”

Roose’s pale eyes swung back to Robb, almost pleading with him.

"My Lord, you have no idea what Lord Tywin promised us."

Robb snorted and shook his head.

"You are a traitor, Lord Bolton. I know exactly what you planned here tonight. Murder!"

Roose swung wildly, as Robb's forces quickly disarmed him. "Round up every Frey and Bolton man. They will be put to death at dawn tomorrow," Robb cried and watched as his orders were carried out.

Robb found Jaime and gave him a rueful grin as he looked towards Edmure and Roslin. "I'm sorry. There was no way to stop their wedding without arousing suspicion." Roslin was a pretty woman, and at twenty-one, well-positioned to be married. 

Jaime sighed and looked at the newly married couple. It was possible they could annul their marriage, but from his past life, Jaime knew that Edmure and Roslin were well matched. Jaime could send them back to the Riverlands and start to rebuild the devastated region and not have to worry too much about what Edmure Tully might get up to. His father would just have to find another wife for Tyrion. Jaime knew that at least one Lannister would be happy with Roslin's marriage to Edmure.

When things were finally settled, there were more than a hundred Frey's and Bolton's in the cells beneath the twin castles. Jaime was exhausted and wanted to find Sansa and reassure her that her family was safe. He took his leave, stalking through the dingy castle until he was finally was on his horse and spurred him over the bridge and back towards the Lannister camp.

Torches lit the way, as he galloped towards his wife. She was all he wanted and the need to see her drove him to ride faster.

Jaime was lost in thoughts of Sansa, when he caught sight of a massive cloaked figure on a black horse, with what looked like a child in front of him, skulking at the edges of the river, just outside the Lannister camp.

Shaking his head, Jaime stopped his horse and looked closer.

"Seven fucking hells," he muttered and then spurred his horse on faster until he was close enough to see them properly. He chuckled softly to himself when he realized he had been correct in his assumptions.

"Clegane!" Jaime called and watched as the man tensed then turned his horse, a snarl on his scarred face.

"Lannister," the man snarled, tightening his hold on Arya Stark.

Jaime grinned. Sansa would be overjoyed that he'd found her sister.

"Lady Stark," Jaime said, smiling at Sansa's sister, and gave her a slight nod.

She curled his lip at him, and Jaime threw his head back and laughed, remembering how much Arya Stark had hated him.

"Where is my family?" she barked at him.

"Your brother Robb, his wife, your Uncles Edmure and Brynden, and Robb's northern bannermen are inside those castles behind me. Sansa is with my Uncle Kevan, awaiting word on the outcome of this evening." Jaime paused. “All are alive and unharmed, although if I don’t get back to my wife, there is no telling what she might do to me.”

The love and affection Jaime had for Sansa was clear, even to Arya and Sandor.

"So the rumours true? You two are married?" Arya asked, voice suspicious.

Jaime nodded and pointed to where their tent was in the middle of the Lannister camp.

“Come and see for yourself,” Jaime said.

Sandor snorted.

"I'm not that dumb, Lannister if you think I'm fucking going in there," Sandor snarled.

Jaime sighed. In this timeline, Sandor could only think that his life was forfeit now that he was back in Lannister hands. Jaime saw the man tighten his grip on Arya.

"Sandor, there is no other man in Westeros, besides myself, that I trust with my wife and her safety," Jaime said, body relaxed and open. "I promise you safe passage, Clegane. Sansa would kill me if something were to happen to you.”

Sandor snorted. "I abandoned that cunt Joffrey during the Battle of the Blackwater, and now you want me to believe that you won't run me through the moment we ride through a camp full of lions?"

Jaime was frustrated. He was cold, tired and wanted his wife. He'd found her sister and was so close to delivering her back to Sansa, safe, but he had an angry hound before him. Jaime had no idea how he might get these two stubborn people to listen to him when he heard approaching hoofbeats.

He grinned, seeing his wife on her horse, galloping towards him.

"Jaime Lannister," came Sansa's cry, and he grinned at her, missing the looks of astonishment and disbelief that passed between Arya and Sandor.

"Wife!" Jaime cried back and smirked as she kicked her horse harder until she was practically in front of him.

"What on earth are you doing, husband? I have been going out of my mind waiting for you to return, and I find you conversing with your bannermen instead of returning to me?" Sansa almost yelled, pulling her horse close to him and frowning.

"Forgive me, love," Jaime said, grinning at her. In truth, Jaime loved how much she cared for him. Even now, late at night, pregnant and scared, she’d come to find him. Jaime pulled her closer, the reigns of her horse now in his hands.

Sansa puffed out a frustrated breath. "You will be forgiven if you tell me immediately what happened, husband."

Jaime smirked. "We won, little wolf." Jaime saw the relief course through her body, every part of her happy with the outcome.

"Oh, thank gods. Robb and Talisa are safe?"

"Yes, wife, they are safe. The Bolton's and the Frey's are in the dungeons, although they had to allow the wedding to take place."

Sansa snorted. "Tyrion won't be disappointed."

Jaime laughed. "No, he won't."

Sansa's shoulder's relaxed, and she gave Jaime a dazzling smile.

"Well done, husband. Now are you ready to return to our tent for your reward?" she all but purred, Jaime's cock going rock hard, despite their audience of Arya and Sandor. There was no mistaking just what type of ‘reward’ Sansa had in mind.

Jaime coughed and then looked between Sansa and Sandor.

"Little wolf," Jaime said softly. "Look who I found," Jaime said and then pointed to the other horse that was just behind him. Jaime kept his eyes trained on wife as hers widened and then filled with tears when she recognized the two riders.

"Oh my god. Arya?" Sansa whispered as her sister threw back her hooded cloak and nodded. Then Sansa’s gaze slid to Sandor’s.

“Sandor!” Sansa cried happily, making the Hound blush.

"Sansa,” they both said, still in shock at the changes they were witnessing. Never had either Arya or Sandor expected to find Sansa happy and in love with her Lannister husband.

Sansa was starting to shake, and Jaime slid off his horse, helping her down, holding her only until Arya was there, and two of them were in each other's arms. They were crying and laughing so hard, that Jaime had no idea what they were saying, only that Sansa was ecstatically happy.

"So, she's happy?" came Sandor's gruff voice, the big man having also slid off his horse to stand by the Kingslayer.

Jaime hummed and nodded. "She is, although threats remain, and we must remain vigilant," was all that Jaime said. When the two women finally parted, Sansa’s eyes shone with such joy that Jaime was staggered by her beauty.

“Come, love, let us get them fed and brought up to speed,” Jaime said, leading his wife, her sister and one of the most fearsome men in the kingdom through the warren of tents and towards their private sanctuary. This night had been beyond successful. Another trueborn Stark had been found, alive and unharmed, and Jaime had just secured the best man in the realm to protect his wife when he could not be by her side.

Though the risk had been great in meeting with the lords from the Vale, the North and the Riverlands, the payoff had been massive.

Petyr Baelish and Lysa Arryn were dead.

Catelyn Stark was captured and in custody.

The Red Wedding had been prevented.

And that lions and wolves of Westeros were one step closer to ruling the seven kingdoms.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Arya talk while Jaime forms a plan

When word had finally been sent the next morning that Arya Stark had been found, Robb Stark, Edmure Tully, and the Blackfish stormed into the main tent in the middle of the Lannister army, looks of astonishment on their faces as they took in her small form.

Getting to this point, though, had been a trial, and all due to Arya not trusting Jaime at all. Well, that and the mere fact that conversing with Sandor Clegane was like talking to a dim-witted, angry child who just snapped and snarled.

Once they had gotten Sandor and Arya back to their tent, Jaime had called for platters of food and ale to be sent to them so that they could share a meal with the two of them. Both had eyed him suspiciously and Jaime had rolled his eyes at the two of them. As if they had cause to protest his generosity.

"Make sure they send plenty of fucking chickens, Kingslayer," Sandor growled, ever the demanding spoiled child. His demand sent Arya into fits of laughter, which baffled Sansa and Jaime.

"You're the worst shit; you know that, right?" Arya said, smirking at the massive man who looked decidedly uncomfortable to be seated in the middle of a Lannister camp.

Sansa just looked between the two of them. Arya had told her all the tales of her and Sandor’s travels. Indeed they had spoken about it at length when they’d both been awaiting Jon at Winterfell. But to see it? Sansa kept darting between the two of them.

It was then that it dawned on Sansa. Sandor looked at Arya like his daughter! And somehow, Arya treated Sandor like an Uncle or cousin she hated but put up with. They were family to one another, even if they would both be too stubborn to ever admit it.

There was an awkward silence before Lannister attendants hurried inside with platters of steaming meat and vegetables, along with day-old bread and a few tankards of mead.

"Sorry, My Lord," one said to Jaime, indicating the mead instead of ale. "We're running low." Jaime waved a hand and dismissed them, watching in horrified fascination as Sandor and Arya tore through the plates before them, downing the mead in big heaving gulps and not leaving a single scrap or sip behind.

“Good god,” Jaime muttered, not even recalling being that hungry when he’d been a prisoner. Perhaps time had dulled his recollections.

When the food and mead were gone, Sandor rose and Jaime along with him.

"If you please, Clegane, give me a moment," Jaime said.

Sansa sighed and Jaime called both his Uncle Kevan and his most trusted man, Addam Marbrand, to their tent and ordered that not a single hair be harmed of Sandor Clegane's head.

Both Kevan and Addam had looked skeptical, having heard how Sandor had abandoned the King the night the Blackwater burned, but Jaime assured them this was the course of action he wanted to take.

"It's your head," Kevan muttered, wondering what Tywin would say when he heard that Jaime had a new pet dog. The Great Lion had been positively livid when he had learned that Sandor had abandoned his house.

"It is Uncle.” Jaime gave Kevan a tight smile, that said, _don’t question me._

“Thank you for reminding me. You two are dismissed, but please find Clegane somewhere to sleep," Jaime said.

"Don't need your fucking charity, Kingslayer. I'll find my own fucking spot to sleep," the man snarled, and Jaime sighed, rubbing at his eyes. The day had been positively endless. Thankfully, Sansa was there, by his side, giggling as he tried to negotiate with Sandor.

"You could be a little less angry, Hound," Jaime said, grimacing at the large man.

The Hound sneered at Jaime when he'd said that and then pointed a meaty finger at the Golden Lion.

"I want my reward for bringing your wife's sister back, unharmed," he growled at Jaime.

"But Hound, you did not know Sansa was my wife when you started on your journey," Jaime smirked back, unable to prevent himself from needling the huge man. He gave Sandor a tight little smile that he knew would drive the man mad.

In truth, Jaime knew that both Sansa and Arya Stark were as safe with Sandor Clegane as they were with any man in the realm - perhaps even safer.

"Jaime," Sansa said, admonishing him. She wanted to roll her eyes at his antics. Her husband seemed to like to bait people; the more dangerous the better.

“What wife?” Jaime responded, his voice light in jest. He wiggled his eyebrows as Sansa gave him a look that every wife in the history of there being wives, had perfected when dealing with a childish acting husband.

Jaime just smirked at her, undaunted by her “look.”

He knew this was not the Sandor that had joined with the Brotherhood without Banners, who had gone beyond the wall, who had quieted some of the rage inside him.

This Hound was still very much the angry man that Jaime remembered from most of his life. Jaime finally nodded at Sansa and turned back to Sandor.

"You'll get your reward, Clegane. A Lannister always…"

"Don't even fucking say it," Sandor snapped and stomped from the tent, muttering about golden cunts and liars. Jaime shook his head, laughing and wondering how on earth Sansa had ever come to trust him. The man was positively scary, Jaime thought, quite pleased that he’d be around to watch his wife’s back.

After reassuring her sister, multiple times that Jaime was not a 'bad' Lannister, Arya had finally allowed Jaime to take Sansa to bed, promising that in the morning, they would tell her everything she wanted to know.

Since she still did not trust Jaime in the least, Arya insisted on sleeping on the couch to protect her sister from him and his wickedness. Jaime had rolled his eyes at her when she said that. Funnily enough, he’d caught Sansa doing the same thing.

Sansa had enough of Arya's antics and dragged Jaime into their adjacent bedroom chamber, undressing and crawling beneath the furs and beckoning him to join her. She was exhausted and she wanted to be in her husband’s arms.

"She's right there, Sansa," Jaime complained. Loudly. Hoping Arya would get the message and leave them be. That she would give them privacy.

"Oh, hush. Come and hold me, husband," Sansa commanded of him, and Jaime grumbled but complied.

"Seven hells woman, your feet are ice," Jaime hissed at her as he pulled her close. Sansa giggled.

"I can hear you two carrying on," Arya cried out.

"Then find another tent to sleep, sweet sister," Sansa called back.

"He'd better not be… ravishing you, Sansa!" Arya barked out.

Sansa laughed.

"And if he is? Keep your ears closed, sister. And mind your own business. No one said you have to sleep here," Sansa said, winking at Jaime as they heard Arya gag but shut her mouth.

Jaime pressed a kiss to her neck and whispered, "While I admire your daring, darling, I think perhaps tonight the ravishing can wait. I'm sure your family will be here at first light once word reaches them that Arya has been located.”

Sansa agreed and then grabbed Jaime's flesh hand and settled it on her stomach, sighing happily as she cuddled in his arms.

Now it was morning, and Jaime was staring down at a woman he would come to know as one of the most vicious killers in Westeros, snoring on his couch, with a dirty boot and breeches making a mess of the blanket she had wrapped around her midsection and utterly destroying the furniture on which she slept. Her snoring increased. Loudly. And she was drooling. On a plush velvet couch that had belonged to House Lannister for longer than she had been alive.

"Oh my, she's a frightful mess, isn't she," Sansa all but tutted as she observed her sister, standing beside Jaime, looking down on her sister's prone form.

"I can hear you, sister," Arya said, barely cracking an eye open. They were too pretty this early in the morning, Arya thought, seeing how they were holding hands and making doe eyes at one another. It was nauseating. Who would have ever thought her sister would fall for the Kingslayer?

"I certainly hope so. I've called for a bath and procured some new clothing for you from one of the squires in the Lannister army, whom has a similar build to yours," Sansa said, watching as Arya swung quickly to her feet.

"Breeches? You're not going to dress me in one of your fancy gowns, Lady Lannister?" Arya sneered at her.

Sansa laughed, not rising to meet Arya’s sharp tone. 

"Gods no. What would be the point? You’d complain endlessly, and I'd regret wasting my time on getting you to dress like a proper lady."

Arya was shocked at her sister's response, and her eyes narrowed. "You've changed, Sansa. You're not as…" Arya waved a hand.

"Petty and cruel?" Sansa supplied, arching an eyebrow. "Young and foolish? Vain and shallow?"

Arya had the grace to blush and gentled her tone. "You've changed that’s all. I must say, I like the new you, Sansa."

Sansa smiled at her sister and nodded. "I suppose we've all changed, Arya, given what we've been through."

Her sister let out an inelegant snort at that statement.

"You owe me a story, sister, on how you came to fall in love with him," Arya said, jerking a thumb towards Jaime.

Sansa sighed and rubbed a hand down Jaime's arm. Sansa wished there was some magic way that she could have Arya believe her when Sansa said she loved her husband with her entire heart. But she'd just have to prove it to her instead.

"Come. I'll wash your hair and back and give you the details of my life," Sansa said. She brushed her lips across Jaime's and murmured, "Give me a couple of hours to speak with her alone and get her clean. Then call for my brother and Uncles, my love."

Jaime nodded and then looked at Arya, and his eyes narrowed, as he rested a hand on the dagger strapped to his side. Jaime went nowhere without a weapon these days; even his own chambers.

"My wife loves you dearly, Lady Arya, but just so we are clear. Do not think to harm her in any way. She is the most precious thing in the entire world to me, and I will not allow anyone to hurt her. Even her own family."

Arya's eyes widened with respect for Jaime's speech and the conviction she saw there. Somehow, someway, Sansa and Jaime Lannister were in love. Madly, deeply in love. And Jaime would kill anyone who harmed a hair on her pretty sister's head.

The Stark sisters were silent as they made their way to the bathing room, and Arya practically tore off her dirty clothing, standing before Sansa, chin titled upwards as if daring her sister to comment on the gouges, bruises and protruding ribs.

Sansa said nothing, biting the inside of her lips to keep from crying out at the state of her sister. She knew that would make Arya uncomfortable, so Sansa held her tongue and gestured to the water.

"Let me wash you, sister."

Arya nodded, unable to keep the moan at bay as she sunk into the warm water, dunking her head and holding her breath for an impossibly long time. When she finally surfaced again, the water that had been clear was a muddy brown and Arya looked almost embarrassed. Thinking Sansa would never put her hand in such water, Arya was shocked when her sister started to hum, dipping the washcloth and rubbing it with soap, before dragging it across Arya's back.

"What happened after they took father's head?" Arya asked quietly, resting her head on her chin as she looked at her sister. Sansa sighed.

When she spoke, the entire horrid tale came out, from Joffrey and Cersei's mistreatment of her to their mother and Littlefinger's role in the Stark-Lannister war, to her marriage to Jaime, and then how they saved Robb and his wife from a plot by Houses Bolton and Frey.

"Where is mother now?" Arya asked, her jaw clenched as tight as her fists.

"Being escorted through the Riverlands, on her way to Casterly Rock." Arya nodded. She knew that Jaime was not a man to be messed with and a part of her was pleased her mother was in the custody of the lions.

"And Baelish?"

"Dead."

Arya grunted her happiness at that statement.

"And Robb is safe?"

"Yes, he and his wife, along with both our Uncles."

Sansa continued washing her, pouring warm, clear water over Arya's dark hair before she rubbed soap and oils into it, making it shine. How had she ever thought her sister ugly? Sansa wondered, berating her younger self. Arya’s hair was dark and shiny, like a pelt of the softest fur and Sansa dug her fingers into her sister’s scalp to massage away more of the dirt and grime.

"And how did you come to fall for the Kingslayer, sweet sister?" Arya asked, turning and catching Sansa's wrist, stilling her movements for a moment.

Sansa blushed. And Arya could only smirk at the picture Sansa made. It appeared she’d met her golden prince after all. Only he was a lion with one hand.

"We spent time together in King's Landing when he returned after losing his sword hand. He was kind to me."

Sansa and Jaime had developed a story for the two weeks in King's Landing, where Jaime had all but disappeared. It included many secret talks and long walks and lingering gazes. They could never tell the truth; that they met again, years in the future, at Winterfell when the army of the dead pressed down upon them and a tyrant dragon queen forced them into a marriage alliance.

"And you love him? You love Jaime Lannister?" Arya said, voice incredulous.

Sansa nodded. "I do, Arya. More than I can probably ever express in this lifetime. I will love him my entire life." Sansa’s voice was so full of conviction that Arya could only stare, open mouthed at her.

"Even after what the Lannister's have done to us?"

Sansa sighed and poured clear water over her sister's head as Arya sputtered.

Sansa narrowed her eyes.

"There is much more to discuss sister, but know this. We are now in an alliance with House Lannister, and it benefits us all. We have many enemies. King Joffrey. House Tyrell. House Baratheon. The Dragon Queen. Ramsay Snow. And that isn't even mentioning what is coming for us from beyond the wall. Forgot about your silly list. Tywin Lannister respects me and had pledged to support us and Jaime loves me and is the best husband I could have ever asked for.”

Arya snorted and then threw her head back and laughed. When she finally stopped, Arya saw that Sansa was looking angry, for the first time in this whole time she had been back. Usually, Arya could anger her sister much quicker.

“Alright sister, I’ll give your husband a chance,” Arya finally said and saw Sansa’s shoulders relax.

Taking a deep breath, Arya quickly told Sansa what she had been through since she escaped King's Landing, including her time with Tywin at Harrenhal and with the Brotherhood without Banners. When she finished speaking, Arya's eyes narrowed.

"How did you know about my list?"

Sansa shrugged and gave her sister a look. Inside Sansa was cursing herself as she realized she'd slipped and revealed something she could not possibly know in this timeline. The more shocking part was that it hadn’t happened before with someone else. It was a good reminder of how careful her and Jaime had to be.

"I know you sister. Of course, you would have been plotting your enemies' demise."

Arya snorted. It was exactly what she’d done. It was both comforting and slightly disconcerting to be around someone who knew her so well. For so long, Arya had only herself to rely on. Now she was back with Sansa. And a Sansa that Arya liked. A lot.

"So what now, sweet sister? Do you have a man lined up for me to marry? Some alliance that needs securing?" Arya sneered, still having trouble accepting this more mature version of her sister.

Sansa shook her head and rose, tossing the dirty cloth at Arya's now clean body.

"I'm hoping you'd like to come with Jaime and I. I am going to ask Sandor to be my sworn shield, along with Dacey Mormont."

Arya surged to her feet, excitement in her eyes, uncaring she was as naked as the day she was born. "The woman fighter from Bear Island?"

Sansa hummed and nodded, passing Arya a towel. "Yes. Her." Sansa watched as Arya hastily dried herself, rubbing the water from her hair and sending it into complete disarray.

"If I come with you, can she teach me to fight?"

Sansa grinned when she saw the eagerness in her sister's eyes. Sansa knew if she didn't do something to keep Arya here in Westeros, her sister would make her way to Bravos and to the House of Black and White.

That was the last thing that Sansa wanted. Sansa almost had her family back together; like hell she’d send them across the narrow sea.

"I'm sure she can. Her and Sandor and even Jaime," Sansa said, handing her sister the clean tunic and breeches, along with new leather boots.

"Him?" Arya scoffed, and Sansa raised an eyebrow, as she haphazardly pulled on the clothes, not caring in the least in what she looked like. Only on the prospected of being ‘trained.’ Some things, Sansa thought, never changed.

"Don't count him out, Arya. Jaime is a formidable swordsman," was all Sansa said before she couldn't help herself and drew Arya into her arms for a hug.

"I'm so glad you are safe, sister. Safe and here with me," Sansa whispered into Arya's ear, shaking only a bit, as Arya finally hugged her back.

"I'm glad as well, Sansa," Arya said before the raised voices of several men indicated that the Stark sister bonding time was over. Robb had arrived, and he was demanding to see his sister.

"Well, thank gods we have you looking at least a little respectable," Sansa muttered, quickly dragging a comb through Arya's damp hair, before they emerged from the bathing room to see Robb, Edmure, the Blackfish and Talisa Stark standing there.

Sansa immediately went to Jaime, loving it when he wrapped her in his arms.

"Good talk with the vicious little bitch?" Jaime asked as Sansa smacked him.

"Be careful, husband, or she'll end up in your retinue."

Jaime snorted. "As if she'd ever leave you, Sansa. That one is as loyal to you as the day is long. So is Sandor. They'll both be coming with us when we leave."

Sansa wanted to ask, _leave for where?_ Because it was clear there was something on Jaime’s mind.

But before she could, she was caught up in the scene in front of her, watching as Robb let out a cry of astonishment and then rushed forward to hug Arya, swinging her around again and again in his arms.

"How?" Robb asked, cupping Arya's face, just as Sandor pushed into the tent.

Of course, both Brynden and Edmure reacted to his presence, along with Robb, cursing and trying to draw swords.

Sansa rushed over to stand in front of Sandor as if to protect him.

If Jaime had not been so secure in the fact that he knew Sansa loved him best, her display towards Clegane would have thrown him into a fit of jealousy. Instead, he knew that his wife looked upon the Hound as the man who had saved her when she had been alone and friendless in King's Landing. The Hound was a champion of Sansa Stark.

"Stop!" Sansa cried, gesturing wilding to her family. "Sheath your blades. Sandor Clegane is no threat to you or our family," Sansa ordered angrily.

Sandor heaved out a sigh. "Alright now, little bird. It's alright. Don't need you flinging yourself about, trying' to protect me when that's my job," the big man said, shockingly gentle with Sansa. Sansa turned and grinned at him.

“I won’t let them hurt you, Sandor,” she said, crossing her arms across her chest as Sandor rumbled out a laugh.

Arya's mouth dropped open as she stalked up to him and drilled him in the chest.

"For months, we've been together, through everything, and you've never spoken to me like that. What the fuck was that, Sandor?" Arya was yelling at him as the big man looked around the tent, almost desperate to escape.

He heaved out a massive sigh. "You're a pain in my arse, and a right little bitch," Sandor snarled at Arya, earning outraged cries from Robb and Edmure.

Arya cocked her head. "Fair enough. You're the worst shit in the seven kingdoms."

Sandor barked out a laugh. "That I am. But I kept you safe and brought you back to your family."

Arya snorted. "Because you're in love with my sister."

Sandor looked ready to murder her when Arya held up a hand. "Fuck. That was poorly done by me. The last we heard, she was a prisoner of King Joffrey in King's Landing. I know you didn't do it for Sansa.”

Everyone had gone quiet, looking between both Stark sisters and the massive man that had somehow become a champion for both of them.

"Sansa, how can you trust him?" Robb's voice suddenly asked, and Sansa whirled on her brother. "He's the Hound, Sansa," Robb added in a whisper as if she were a particularly dim-witted child.

Sansa barely refrained from rolling her eyes.

"He was my only friend in King's Landing, Robb, until Jaime came back. My only friend. Remember? When I was alone and the King would beat me for your victories. It was Sandor Clegane that kept me from being raped, who shielded me with his cloak when the King had me stripped in front of the entire court. It was Sandor Clegane who stopped me from pushing Joffrey from the stone walkway to his death!" Sansa shouted the last one, and then clamped her mouth shut, her blue eyes darting to Jaime.

Her husband looked ill, and Sansa worried it was because he now knew that she had almost killed his son.

"Hush now little bird," Sandor started to say, before Jaime was there, pulling Sansa into his arms and cradling her protective. He was ill at the treatment she had suffered at the hands of his son. 

"I'll comfort my wife, Sandor," Jaime said, his voice low and quiet. "Hush little wolf, hush," Jaime was saying, stroking her back. "I don't blame you in the least for wanting to hurt Joffrey," Jaime whispered into Sansa's ear, her slim shoulders shaking.

"You must think me a monster," she cried, and he shook his head.

"Never my love. I think you a survivor. And all a survivor can do is take whatever action is required to live, Sansa. To survive," Jaime told her, believing every word. He'd done horrible things to escape Robb Stark and the Bolton's and their butchers. He knew that survival was paramount when you were a prisoner and nothing else.

Jaime felt her breathing calm until her blue eyes met his, and he smiled softly at her. "Better little wolf?" he asked, stroking a hand down her cheek.

"I am. Thank you," she said, blushing, and Jaime chased that away by stealing a kiss.

"Never, ever apologize for what you did to survive them, Sansa. Never," he told her, his voice filled with passion. When they finally turned back to the others in the room, several stunned gazes were watching them.

"Fuck me, you really do love her," Arya said, shaking her head.

Talisa looked overjoyed, and Robb looked ill, thinking once again of his massive failure to protect his sister when she had been in King’s Landing. It had been a man like Sandor Clegane that had taken on that role. It was shameful and Robb apologized again to Sansa.

“Perhaps we can discuss matters at hand,” was all Sansa said, moving them towards the large table in the centre of the room. 

When everyone finally had a spot at the table, the endless talking began again, and Jaime let his mind drift. He had seated Sansa on his lap, needing her close and not caring if it was proper or not. _What the hell did he care what anyone thought? He was Jaime Lannister, for gods sake._

He knew their tales, all of them, almost by heart now. Sansa had shared so much with him that he was missing nothing by not paying attention to their conversation.

Instead, he played with the stays on the back of her dress as his mind thought about the raven he'd received first thing this morning from his father. He hadn't even had time to speak to his wife, with all the drama around her sister and Sandor showing up.

"Jaime?" came Sansa's voice, and he shook his head, blinking back to the scene before him.

"I'm sorry. I was woolgathering. What did I miss?" Jaime asked, looking at several tense faces.

"Where will you take the Lannister army now?" Brynden demanded.

The raven that Jaime had received had been from his father. In it, Tywin had informed Jaime that he'd received word that Highgarden had secretly called all its banners and was marching their army, all thirty thousand strong, down the Rose Road and towards King's Landing. Tywin had sent Tommen to Casterly Rock in secret, against Cersei's protests and confirmed that he'd held off the marriage between Joffrey and Margaery. But if this show of force was any indication, the Tyrell's had no intention of taking their eyes off the Iron Throne. Jaime could tell his father was worried.

"We will go back to King's Landing," Jaime said smoothly, not mentioning what the Tyrell's had done. "By way of Casterly Rock," Jaime finished, drawing a happy gasp from Sansa and a nod from the Blackfish.

"Really? We're going to the Rock?" Sansa asked, excitement in her voice.

"We are, wife. We've only been married a few months, and it is long overdue that you see the castle our child will inherit one day," Jaime said, grinning at her, resting a hand on her stomach.

When he had her alone, he'd speak to her of what his father had shared with him.

"You're PREGNANT?" Arya screeched, pulling Sansa's attention away from her husband’s bright green eyes.

"Yes."

"With his baby?" Arya was pointing to Jaime. She'd just gotten used to the fact that Sansa was marriage. Now she found out her sister was pregnant. Arya didn't care what Robb said; there was no way in the seven hells Arya was leaving her sister in the south without being by her side.

Sansa rolled her eyes at her sister's dramatics. "Yes, Arya, with Jaime's baby. Or babies. The midwife in a village we passed through said there were two."

Arya's eyes almost popped out of her head, and she crossed her arms. "That settles it. I'm coming with you, Sansa."

Robb rose to protest, saying her place was with him in the North, but Arya shook her head.

"No, Robb. It's with Sansa."

"I'm not going to win, am I?" Robb said, shaking his head as Arya and Sansa just looked at one another. There was something there, between the two of them and Robb knew that Arya wouldn’t leave Sansa’s side.

"No, brother. Take the Northern Army home and take back Winterfell," Sansa said, finally looking at her brother. "Arya's place is with me."

"And him?" the Blackfish said, gesturing to Sandor.

"He's a Westermann," Jaime pronounced. "He belongs to House Lannister."

Sandor might have snarled, but Jaime shot a knowing look to Sansa, which made Sandor grumble but nod. "Alright, Kingslayer. I'll guard your pretty wife and the little lion cubs. But no fuckin' fire. If there's fire, I run."

With that pronouncement, Sandor stalked from the tent once again.

"And you are alright with this, Sansa?' Robb asked, still unsure about trusting the Hound.

Sansa laughed. "Robb, Sandor will never hurt either Arya or I. He'll protect us, always."

Robb gave his agreement before the siblings spent a few more minutes with one another. Jaime knew there was a sense of urgency for both Houses to get to a place of safety. Robb needed to get North before real winter came.

And Jaime, well, Jaime had the itchy feeling between his shoulder blades that told him to get to the Rock as soon as possible. There were another fifteen thousand Lannister men there, along with the ten thousand his father had kept in King's Landing. If he joined his forces, he’d have over twenty-five thousand strong for the plan that was forming in his head.

When Sansa and Arya finally said goodbye to Robb and Talisa, there were more tears, and hugs, until finally Robb grabbed his wife's hand and strode away.

Arya stalked off, needing space, and both Edmure and Brynden promised they'd be ready to leave at first light. Riverrun was on the way to Casterly Rock, and the Blackfish had promised the Lannister Army safe passage through the Riverlands on their way to the West.

When they were finally alone, Jaime held out the raven from his father, watching Sansa as she read it. Her eyes narrowed when she got to the part about the Tyrell army emptying from Highgarden.

"That didn't happen in our time, Jaime."

He sighed and shook his head. "No, Sansa, it did not."

She looked at him. "Why?"

He said nothing for a moment until Sansa reached out and squeezed his hand. "Tell me," she commanded.

"Father must suspect something as well, or why else would he send Tommen to the Rock, if not to secure the second in line for the Iron Throne if something were to happen to Joffrey?" Jaime spoke eagerly, pacing a bit, working the problem through in his mind. “It is obvious that Tywin wants no one to get their hands on Tommen.”

Jaime scrubbed a hand down his face, as he continued to think and walk the small confines inside their tent.

"It is clear now that the Tyrell's mean to move on the Iron Throne. Whether that is with or without Joffrey remains to be seen, but secreting Tommen away is a good way to force them into having only Joffrey as an option for Margaery. They might not even kill Joff, needing him to legitimatize Margaery’s reign. At least until she produces an heir.”

Sansa hummed her agreement but shuddered at the thought of anyone having to lie with Joffrey.

"And what will you do?" Sansa watched her husband and saw his brain working. When he raised his eyes to hers, he had a ferocious smile on his face.

"Why wife, I think perhaps a second sack of Highgarden is in order. After all, I did promise Lady Olenna I would repay her tenfold for attempting to poison my wife on our wedding day. Do you suppose that taking her family's proud castle is revenge enough?"

Sansa threw her head back and laughed and then stalked towards Jaime, kissing him hard on the lips. Her blue eyes glittered.

"I think a second sack on Highgarden sounds like the perfect plan."

"While we send word that our forces are coming back down the King's Road, marshalling at Harrenhal, we'll ride hard up the River Road, past Riverrun and onto Casterly Rock. With Highgarden emptying to the East, the Lannister army will smash the Reach from the Northwest. We'll be where are our army is not, wife."

"Jaime, it's brilliant," Sansa breathed and hugged him hard.

She knew this is what it meant to play the game of thrones. Bold moves that might just bring them one set closer to victory, or that much closer to ruin.

Either way, the dye had been cast.

As of now, House Lannister was going to war with House Tyrell, only this time, they had the backing of the Vale, the Riverlands and the North and neither Sansa nor Jaime meant to lose.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riverrun

_ Road to Riverrun_

"You know, I quite enjoy the ride to Riverrun," Jaime was saying to Sansa as they rode up the River Road towards her Uncle's seat. "It's lush, green, and the food is second to none. Lots of fish here, but that's to be expected."

Sansa was grinning at him, so relaxed and clearly in command on his white warhorse, as her Uncle, the Blackfish, rolled his eyes.

Jaime had been waxing on about the Riverlands for days now, and Sansa knew he was testing her Uncles patience. And that of both Arya and Sandor, who snapped and snarled at her husband whenever they came near.

"Of course it's much more pleasant not being at war with your brother. It gives me time to appreciate the land and the people," Jaime continued, winking at Sansa when Brynden snorted and kicked his horse, hard, to gallop ahead of them.

"He never shuts up," Sansa heard her Uncle mutter before he was out of earshot.

"Of course, we are approaching the site of one of my greatest humiliations, wife. Whispering wood," Jaime said, leaning in closer to her and winking again.

Arya snorted.

"Only a Lannister could have such arrogance when bested by a wolf," she snarked at him.

Much to Arya's shock, Jaime threw his head back and laughed.

"It was quite the victory, wasn't it, Lady Arya," Jaime said, watching as Arya ground her teeth together when he tacked the_ lady_ in front of her name.

Over the week they'd been travelling, Jaime had made it a point to jape with Arya as much as possible, and Sansa knew her sister was seething at being teased thusly by the Golden Lion. What Arya didn't understand, was that Jaime had taken a shine to her, watching her closely as she sparred with Dacey Mormont each evening when they stopped and made camp. Sansa knew it meant that he cared for Arya – and not just because she was her sister.

"She's quite good," Jaime had said one night after Sansa had begged him to take her to bed, becoming bored watching her sister prattle on endlessly about knights and honour and training. Arya had a one-track mind, and Sansa was annoyed with her.

Sansa snorted.

"She is good but cocky. When do you plan on stepping in and teaching her a lesson, husband?"

Jaime raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, which had Sansa rolling her eyes.

"I've seen you watching her, itchy to teach her a thing or two."

Jaime grinned and pressed his lips to hers.

"You know me too well, wife. But not yet. She needs more arrogance before the lesson will truly be effective."

Jaime remembered a similar one being taught to him by Tywin. Nothing humbled a person more than having their arse thoroughly handed to them.

Sansa could only hope Jaime knew what he was doing when it came to Arya, and she turned serious.

"Do not chase her away, Jaime. I don't think I could bear it if she were to flee to Braavos again because of us. She is safe here, now. I want her by my side."

Jaime sobered immediately and nodded.

"My love, do not worry. I have no intention of allowing your sister to leave your side."

Sansa hummed contentedly, trusting Jaime to know how far to push Arya. In truth, it was good for her sister. Sansa knew she missed Jon desperately, and if Jaime could fill that role of an elder brother for her, Sansa welcomed it.

Sansa knew that the others couldn't understand why Jaime didn't have more anger when he spoke of losing to Robb Stark in these very woods as they made their way up the Red Fork and towards her mother's ancestral home.

For Sansa and Jaime, it had been years since such defeats, whereas Arya and Sandor had heard about them mere months ago.

Those battles had left scars on the landscape as they rode past, ones that even Sansa could see. The stench of death was heavy here, in this lush part of Westeros, where so much blood had been spilled.

The other odd friendship that had seemingly sprung up on their journey was that between her Uncle, The Blackfish and Kevan Lannister. The two old warriors had bonded at the Saltpans over their new alliance, and they were now thick as thieves, often heard commiserating with one and other over the folly of youth and the poor choices.

"Those two old goats would have us all believe they are the greatest swordsmen that Westeros has ever seen," Jaime said, shooting them daggers with his eyes as they chortled about some inside jape between the two of them.

Jaime shook his head, never thinking he'd see the day when the Blackfish and his Uncle were… friends. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

"Oh, leave them be, Jaime. They are just having some harmless fun." Sansa glanced at the two of them, smirking on their horse and shook her head. "I think that they are adorable."

"Adorable?" Jaime sputtered, glancing between the Uncles and Sansa. "Them? They're likely to rush into battle, give away our position and cost us the war!"

Sansa laughed and shook her head.

"Jaime, they are in heaven right now. Look closer."

Jaime's eyes narrowed on them and watched as young knights and squires almost tripped over themselves to gain an audience with the two seasoned warriors. Both men welcomed the young lads jovially, sharing stories and advice with them.

"They are useful again, husband. Useful and wanted, and they love being here, in the thick of things and with us. They love us, Jaime. Do not underestimate that, husband.”

Jaime thought his wife might be seeing things too hopefully, but he didn't have the heart to tell her so, so he only grunted, not fooling her at all.

Sansa wagged a finger at him.

"Mark my words, Jaime Lannister, my Uncle will not let you ride off to Casterly Rock without being by your side. You think he'll let you have all the fun?"

With that last comment, Sansa laughed as Jaime paused, taking a long moment to observe the Blackfish. There were no doubts that the man was a brilliant military commander, and any fool could see that he was the true power in House Tully. Their bannermen barely moved for Edmure but snapped to attention to moment Brynden strutted by.

There could be a worse man to have at his side, Jaime mused as he watched the Blackfish closer over the next few days.

"The Riverlands have suffered, my Lady Sansa," the Blackfish said one afternoon as he took a turn beside her in the procession.

Sansa found herself spending an increasing amount of time with him and Kevan Lannister. She loved hearing their stories and they often had her in stitches with tales of a misspent youth. 

"Many places have suffered, Uncle. The North was not immune to hardship these past few years. My father should never have left Winterfell," Sansa said, shaking her head at all of their foolishness.

Ned Stark for thinking he could play the game of thrones with people like Baelish and Cersei.

Her for thinking Joffrey was good and honourable and would love her.

Arya for never listening to a word anyone said.

Their mother for believing a man that should have raised her suspicions.

"You know, your mother wasn't always the way she was," Brynden said, tentatively, testing the waters of Sansa's patience.

She sighed. "I know."

"Your father wasn't the man she had fallen in love with. That was his brother."

Sansa nodded. She'd learned all about the past from Bran when they'd been at Winterfell together. Her brother, as the three-eyed-raven, had explained how much Catelyn Tully had loved Brandon Stark.

"And then when your father brought home that bastard," Brynden said and glanced at Sansa's sharp intake of breath, thinking he had upset his niece, when honestly, Sansa was angered at herself.

_Jon! She hadn't yet told Jaime Jon's true parentage. _

_How could she be so stupid?_ Sansa railed at herself.

Somehow in all the chaos of travelling through time, navigating King's Landing, dealing with Baelish and then the meeting at the Saltpans, including preventing the Red Wedding, Sansa had forgotten that she hadn't yet told Jaime that they had learned who Jon's birth parents were.

Right now, everyone still thought he was Ned Stark's bastard. Including Jaime.

"Wife?" Jaime asked, seeing something in her eyes.

Before Sansa could say anything to him, a frenzied shout came from the scouts at the front of the procession.

"Ser Jaime, Lady Sansa, come quick," someone called, and they spurred their horses faster, up the bend in the road until the sight before they brought both of them to a thundering halt.

Hanging from a sturdy branch just off the River Road were the bodies of the six Lannister guards that Jaime had dispatched to bring Catelyn Stark to Casterly Rock. By the sloughing and greying of their skin, not to mention the fact that their eyes had been pecked out, and they were starting to turn, Jaime estimated they'd been dead for at least four to five days.

A quick search of the grounds showed that Catelyn Stark was not among the dead lions.

She was missing.

While Sansa and Jaime were looking at one another with shocked glances, Arya and Sandor joined them.

"Call for the Blackfish and Lord Tully. The Riverlords need to see this," Jaime bellowed, seething in rage at the slight against his House and loyal men. They had been doing their duty as ordered by him, taking Catelyn Stark to Casterly Rock and had paid with their lives.

_Who would be so bold, to go against House Lannister?_ Jaime thought, the anger inside him building.

The Riverlands had been utterly decimated by the war of the five kings, of which they'd just cut short. Inevitably there were still houses here that hated the Lannister's and would do anything for the trueborn daughter of Hoster Tully.

But would they be so bold even after Edmure Tully had sent ravens to every House pledged to him, explaining about their alliance?

Jaime knew that word would not yet have spread through the Kingdom about the new alliance of four, but surely here, here in a place that had only known war for the past few years, peace would have been welcomed.

Who then would do such a thing? Risk angering House Lannister and House Stark just for Catelyn Stark?

"Jaime?" Sansa asked, having watched her husband and the riot of emotion that chased over his face.

She knew he would feel the deaths of his men, even if he gave no outward appearance of it. He had confessed to her, late one night when they lay tangled in each other, how heavy the burden of command was, especially when men died.

Sansa knew that war and death and fighting were part of their lives, but the loss of men should feel heavy on their commander's shoulders, else they were nothing more than an unfeeling monster like Ramsay.

Jaime heaved out a breath and met Sansa's eyes and saw a wealth of understanding there. Understanding and the shared burden of more senseless death.

Jaime felt the tightness in his chest loosen as he realized he was not alone. Never alone, now that Sansa as his wife. He had her love, her acceptance, her grace. And it cleansed him. He gave her a soft smile.

"I'm alright, little wolf," he said, just as Edmure and Brynden appeared.

The moment the Blackfish saw the dead Lannister's hanging from the branch, he sucked in a deep breath. He knew if this situation wasn't handled carefully, it had the potential to destroy the tentative alliance that they had just built.

"What do we know?" he asked Jaime, never taking his eyes from the Golden Lion, giving Jaime the respect his position demanded.

"Not much. It appears that the men escorting the prisoner Lady Catelyn Stark to Casterly Rock were attacked, with the lady in question now missing," Jaime said, rage colouring every word.

"She is not amongst the dead?"

"No." Jaime paused. "It appears she escaped."

"Or she had been kidnapped, Kingslayer!" Edmure spat. "You cannot think my sister had anything to do with this. For all we know, she is dead, somewhere in the woods, or being held for ransom."

Jaime arched an eyebrow. "Have you received a ransom demand, Lord Tully?"

Edmure coloured and shook his head.

Jaime sighed.

"It is rather convenient then that she somehow escaped, not a half a day's ride from her childhood home, in an area thick with houses that might be persuaded to be loyal to her."

Edmure paled.

"You can't think any of my bannermen had anything to do with this."

The man felt positively ill at such a thought and wondered what trouble his sister might have gotten into. Unfortunately for Catelyn Stark, Edmure Tully now had a wife. A wife whom he'd consummated his marriage with. A wife, who even now, might be pregnant with his heir. No longer could Edmure think only of his willful sister.

"I am stating nothing, Lord Tully, merely observing the fact that this would have been the best place for Lady Catelyn to put a plan in motion for escape. A plan," Jaime said, looking back at the swinging bodies, "That apparently worked like a charm."

"You don't know, Ser Jaime, what happened here. Let me send men to scout for her to see if they can find any sign of her."

Jaime snorted.

"If you think I'll trust only Tully men to search for Lady Catelyn alone, you are sorely mistaken," Jaime called for two of best trackers, along with several younger Lannister knights that could keep pace with the men.

Edmure, not to be outdone, brought forward his own choices, and soon a group of twenty-five men were sent into the Riverlands to search.

Even though an outright conflict had been avoided, the mood of the entire procession changed. Jaime was sullen and tightlipped and barked out orders, increasing their pace so they would arrive at Riverrun within a day. It was clear he didn't trust either Edmure or her mother, but his faith in the Blackfish had oddly not been shaken.

It was her Uncle that came to their tent, wringing his hands and glancing at the two of them that evening after they had discovered the dead Lannister men.

"I know we've been at war for an age. We're enemies, you and me, Kingslayer," the Blackfish said, while Jaime arched an eyebrow.

"Have you come to state the obvious? Or perhaps confess to having something to do with your niece's escape?" Jaime snarked back, only staying seated as Sansa placed a hand on his arm.

Brynden growled and paced the small confines of the tent. When he turned back, it was to see Jaime and Sansa holding hands, and the air went out of him as he collapsed into a chair.

"Those sisters were never right in the head," he said, finally speaking plainly. "Their brother is too caught up in defending them when clearly they can manage well enough on their own. Hoster was too old and bitter by the time Edmure came along to do much good to the boy. Not that that's an excuse," Brynden said, sighing heavily and looking directly at Jaime and Sansa. "Edmure didn't betray you, of that I'm sure. Whether some of our loyal bannermen did or not, it wasn't on Emmure's orders. I've been with him almost every moment since the Saltpans."

Sansa nodded, seeing the truth in her Uncle’s eyes. "Thank you, Uncle, for coming and speaking with us."

Brynden rose. "Your mother, Sansa," he started to say, shaking his head. "The damage she could do is immense. If she has convinced some houses in the Riverlands to go against our alliance, I fear for my House."

Jaime grimaced, hating the mess that they were in. "If Edmure were to find her first, would he honour our alliance and hand her over to House Lannister?"

Brynden gave a short, jerky nod. "I have his word, lion, that he will."

Jaime ran his hand through his hair.

"It is enough for now. He is right in that we do not know what happened to Lady Catelyn. For the sake of her children, I don't know what to hope for. That she orchestrated her own escape and is safe and unharmed, or that she was kidnapped and therefore didn't put this entire alliance and peace at risk."

Jaime looked to Sansa as he said this, and noted the tears in her eyes. He wondered how many times her mother could hurt her before Jaime would just slit her throat and be done with the bothersome woman.

"Hush now, little wolf," Jaime said, pulling Sansa into his arms, rocking her gently.

She should be ecstatic. They had saved her family, prevented the Red Wedding, and were pregnant with a proper heir. Winterfell would soon be back in Stark hands, and she was away from the capital and Joffrey's cruel manipulations.

Hell, the woman had brokered peace between four regions.

And yet.

Her mother sullied it all.

"I'm so sorry, Jaime, for her actions," Sansa sobbed into his chest, as she shook with emotion. Brynden gave a tight nod and slipped from the tent, knowing that his niece only wanted her husband's comfort.

"It is not on you, Sansa. We had no idea that your mother would do this," Jaime said. Neither he nor Sansa thought Catelyn had been 'kidnapped.' This felt orchestrated and deliberate.

"What if she ruins everything?" Sansa whispered, and Jaime tilted her chin, so their eyes met.

"My love, we knew the risks and chances we'd have to take coming here. Yes, we've changed some things with our actions, but others have not." Jaime smiled softly. "We are still married and in love." Sansa smiled back. "Your Uncle still married Roslin." Sansa nodded. "Your mother is still mad and threatening to bring us all to ruin."

Sansa thumped his chest.

"Too soon?" Jaime asked, wiggling his eyebrows, coaxing another smile from Sansa's lips.

"Too soon husband," Sansa said and then cuddled deeper into his embrace, loving it as Jaime rocked her gently. He pressed a kiss to her head and placed a hand on her stomach.

"Soon we will be in the Westerlands, Sansa and at the Rock. I am not exaggerating when I say the beauty of my family's seat will make your eyes pop from your head," Jaime said and heard her little snicker. "It is a keep fit for a Queen, Sansa. It is a castle worthy of you, my love, and I can only hope you will love it as much as I do."

"Tell me more, Jaime," Sansa said as he picked her up quickly and settled her into their makeshift bed.

"Well, for one thing, little wolf, we will have a chamber with a huge terrace overlooking the sunset sea," Jaime said as he opened her arms to her.

"That sounds lovely," Sansa said, sleepily trying to picture it.

"It is love. You can hear the waves all night. And the salt air is cleansing and not at all like what Blackwater Bay smells like," Jaime continued, only to be interrupted by her soft snore.

"And wife, I hope that you will stay there, safe and secure while I deal with our enemies, so our children can be born there, safe and free from those who wish to harm them.”

The last was said so quietly that had anyone else been in their room, they wouldn't have heard the words.

But Jaime did. It was his greatest wish. To get Sansa to Casterly Rock and safety, surrounded by his family and those loyal to him.

They were so close, a few weeks of hard riding at best, and Jaime could finally give his bride the proper chambers she deserved. Dress, jewels, baths and decadent food. All of it would be hers if he could just get her to Casterly Rock.

Jaime didn't know how he knew; he just did. For some reason, in this timeline, in this life, her place was there. And Jaime would kill any man or woman who stood in his way.

As promised, by the next afternoon, Riverrun came into view. The castle could be seen from leagues away and rose out of the confluence of two rivers. Sansa could see immediately why the Tully sigil was a fish and chuckled when Jaime made some comment about fishing, earning yet another glare from her Uncle.

Still, as they drew closer to the castle, Sansa gasped at the sight. Since she had been a girl, her mother had spoken fondly of her childhood home, and Sansa could see why.

It was a castle straight from a book, with three towers with rounded turrets, surrounded by water and with a drawbridge. The castle had beautiful sandstone walls of pale grey and had to be one of the prettiest castles in the Seven Kingdoms.

"It's no Casterly Rock," Jaime muttered when he saw his wife's reaction.

"Oh hush, you," Sansa said, seeing the pride on her Uncle's face.

"We might not be the impenetrable stronghold of the Rock," he said, glaring at Jaime, "But you'll be comfortable here niece and eat well tonight."

Sansa almost moaned at the thought of a proper bed and bath and blushed when Jaime wiggled his eyebrows at her.

"I like the sounds of that, Blackfish. It has been hard to steal time with my wife."

Arya snorted.

"Seven hells Kingslayer, the lot of us must plug our ears the way you two carry on if we hope to get any sleep at night. Who knew my sister could cry your name in so many different ways. The only thing Sansa will have to worry about is how to keep a babe from her belly after she's given you these two."

Jaime cocked his head.

"Yes, I suppose that is something to be taken into consideration," he said, voice serious as Arya rolled her eyes at him. "But what a lovely problem to have. How to bed my wife and not get too many children on her?" Jaime grinned at Sansa.

"How many children are too many, wife?"

Sansa shook her head at their antics but refused to answer. They carried on like siblings the way they swiped at each other.

"I suppose five or six sounds nice," Jaime was saying as Arya gaped at him.

"Kingslayer, if you force my sister to birth six of your children, I'll cut your damn cock off," Arya snarled at him, and Jaime threw his head back and laughed.

"But then your sister would be very cross with you. After all, she likes my c…"

"Husband, please do not finish that sentence," Sansa interrupted them, not even embarrassed anymore.

Living in a tent for two months while newly pregnant had stripped Sansa of some of her more delicate sensibilities. She hadn't cared in the least who might have heard them each night, although the thought of a soft bed and a warm bath had her riding just a little faster towards Riverrun, leaving Jaime and Arya behind to bicker between themselves.

Laughing her Uncle Bryden kicked his horse, so together they rode hard towards the castle, comfort paramount of Sansa's mind. She knew her husband would catch her. She saw the hunger in his eyes and Sansa welcomed the love and desire that coursed through her body at the thought of being warm and clean in just a short while.

_ Riverrun _

Sansa had indeed eaten her fill in her Uncle's great hall, and then take a long, hot bath, moaning in delight as she washed away what felt like weeks of dirt and grime. When Jaime slipped into the bathing chambers, Sansa grinned and leaned forward so he could slip in behind her.

It was like at Winterfell and the Red Keep when he'd bathed with her, only now her stomach was clearly pregnant.

"How are our children, love?" Jaime asked, cupping her stomach as he kissed her neck, making Sansa moan.

"They are good, husband," Sansa responded, content to let Jaime wash her hair and back, each movement filled with such tenderness she thought she might weep if she wasn't filled with such desire for him.

When he finally strode back into their bedchamber with her in his arms, they were naked and primed for one another, and Jaime put them booth on the bed, stopping to gaze down at her.

"Sansa," he breathed reverently. Everything about her was lush and ripe, and the swell of her stomach where their children grew made Jaime so hard his cocked wept to be buried inside her.

"You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen," Jaime told her, taking his time to kiss her everywhere until she was begging for him to enter her.

"I need you, Jaime," she panted, and he willingly obliged her, sinking inside her to the hilt, fusing them together and making his wife cry out his name. They moved together, lost in one another, each determined that the other would find their pleasure until Jaime felt Sansa flutter around his cock. He grunted as he desperately rubbed at her hardened nub, as she shattered around him, dragging him over as well as he spent rope after rope of hot seed deep inside her.

When he finally got his wits, he cuddled Sansa in his arms, kissing her, stroking her back, taking time just to cherish and love her. This privacy was a treat, and knowing they departed for the Rock in a few days, one that Jaime was more than willing to savour.

"Do you think we can do more good than harm?" Sansa asked after a time.

Jaime knew that the actions of the Tyrell's weighed heavy on her mind. It hadn’t happened in their time, and both knew that they had effected such a change.

Jaime turned so they could gaze upon one another.

"Our intentions are good, my love, and that is all that matters. We cannot know which of our actions will have specific consequences," Jaime told her, believing his words.

"Are you certain?"

"Certain of what, little wolf?"

"That we will do more good than harm?" she asked him, laying a hand on his face and looking deep into his eyes.

Sansa had no idea just how good she truly was; even now, with all this knowledge, all this power, she worried. Jaime kissed her gently.

"I am sure, my darling, that we will do more good than harm," he told her.

Something in his voice or eyes must have convinced her, for Sansa relaxed and turned the conversation to more pleasant topics, such as gossiping about their friends and family.

Later, when they were just about asleep, a thumping at the door altered Jaime and Sansa that they would not be getting the restful slumber both had hoped for. When they opened their door, Arya and Sandor stood before them, glancing warily down the hallway as if they were afraid to be seen here.

Jaime sighed. "I don't suppose it would do any good to remind the pair of you that we are newly wed and haven't had a proper bed in months, would it?"

Arya snorted. "Let us in Kingslayer. I'm sure you've already had my sister once tonight. Your cock can wait."

"You are oddly obsessed with my cock, Lady Arya," Jaime said as Sandor growled and pushed into their room.

"We don't have time for the two of you and your constant japes," he muttered at the pair of them.

Sansa had risen and pulled on a tunic of Jaime's and was clad indecently for a man, not her husband, to see her.

Stalking towards her, Jaime wrapped her in a red Lannister robe.

"Have a care for my jealousy, wife," he murmured into her ear as Sansa bit her lip but nodded as she pulled the robe tight and then took her seat, looking anxiously at Sandor and Arya.

"It's that fucking Brotherhood that killed the Lannister men," Sandor snarled once they were seated, pacing in their room.

"The Brotherhood?" Jaime asked, a bit lost and slightly bewildered. _What on earth could the Brotherhood without Banners want with Lady Catelyn Stark?_

Both Jaime and Sansa had heard about Arya and Sandor's time with them but hadn't paid them much mind when they had been at Winterfell. After both Arya and Sandor had escaped them, they'd had minimal impact on their previous timeline until it came to the events beyond the Wall, and that was years away.

"They have a hideout here, in the Riverlands," Arya said, for once serious. "Near Hollow Hill."

"But why would the Brotherhood take her?" Sansa asked, just as confused as Jaime.

"Who do you think sent the Brotherhood after me, little bird? It's was your Daddy. If that fucking Dondarrion stumbled upon Ned Stark's widow, well, I think perhaps he'd see that as an opportunity. Perhaps Lady Stark saw an opportunity."

Sansa felt her stomach clench violently. It would be just like her mother to throw her lot in with outlaws if she thought all other paths to her were nonexistent. And it made more sense than any of her Uncle's bannermen going against him.

"But why?"

"Dondarrian is a fucking fanatic. He has been brought back to life more times than I can count by his priest, Thoros. Believes in the magic of the Red Witch," Sandor said, his voice filled with disgust. "I fucking killed him and then next thing I know, he's up and marching about. Why the fuck do you think I tried to get away from them? Nothing right is supposed to come back to life like that," Sandor finished.

Jaime and Sansa exchanged a glance, knowing precisely what was coming for them – an entire army that didn't stay dead.

"So, where would they go?" Sansa asked, trying to wrap her mind around this new information.

Sandor shrugged.

"Dondarrion is pledged to House Baratheon, and your father did say he'd support Stannis for the throne," Jaime said, watching as Sansa paled.

"No. No, she wouldn't, Jaime. That would be going against both Robb and me if she threw her lot in with Stannis," Sansa said, mind racing.

It made a sick type of sense, though, and Sansa stood abruptly and raced for the privy. Jaime dismissed Sandor and Arya, but not before telling them to keep their thoughts to themselves.

When Sansa finally emerged, she was as pale as Jaime had ever seen. He got her to bed and sung softly to her until he'd chased the worst of her fear away for now, at least.

It appeared Lady Catelyn was not done breaking her daughter's heart, and Jaime swore the woman would pay.

Sansa and Arya spent the new few days with their uncles, getting a grand tour of Riverrun and learning more about their mother than they had ever previously known. Of course, that information felt tainted now that they were convinced the woman had betrayed them yet again.

When they were on horseback on the morning of the third day, Sansa was glad to see the end of Riverrun. It was bittersweet and not at all what she had expected.

She glanced at Jaime, who gave her a slow nod before he went to start the retinue when a commotion sounded, and the Lannister knights parted to reveal the Blackfish in fully Tully armour on his war mount galloping towards them.

"Do not think I'll let you have all the fun, lion," he said, smirking at Jaime, who appeared stunned. "I have five-thousand Riverman that will march with Lannister forces on Highgarden."

"How did you know?" Jaime asked. He had said nothing about his plans for the Reach.

Brynden winked.

"I may be older than you, but I'm not completely gone over yet. Besides, you don't think those roses marching their entire host towards King's Landing went unnoticed, did you?" Brynden snorted and shook his head.

"It's been an age since I've had a proper siege," Kevan said, grinning at his new friend.

Jaime shook his head at the two of them, wondering what his father might say about this new friendship and alliance between the two of them. They seemed almost giddy at the thought.

When Jaime looked at Sansa, she was biting her lip and trying not to giggle, and Jaime sighed. He shot a look at the Blackfish.

"You might have five thousand men, and you might be older than me, but this is my army. It is my castle. And my land. You'll listen to me, fish!"

Brynden chuckled and nodded. "I just want the chance to stick it to Highgarden, lion."

Jaime just held his gaze and then shook his head, glancing around and seeing the swollen ranks. He now knew what the Blackfish had been doing the past few days when he'd been at home – calling his banners.

"A true alliance then," Jaime said, and Brynden nodded.

"Aye, a true alliance, lion.”

Jaime nodded, then looked to Sansa. "Ready to see Casterly Rock, wife?"

Sansa grinned. "I am husband."

Jaime grinned, his green eyes dancing.

"Then let us linger no longer." He withdrew his sword and thrust it high. "To the Westerlands and Casterly Rock." Then he kicked his mount and galloped down the River Road towards the West, towards home.

A great cheer arose behind him, and Sansa threw her head back in laughter as she chased after her husband, excited to see his family seat and the incomparable Casterly Rock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who guessed the BWB?? Anyone?? And Stannis?? Is that really who has Lady Cat?
> 
> As always, comments are golden, just like Jaime's armour (OK- that was too cheesy). But honestly, I love to hear what people think of each chapter. 
> 
> Up Next: 
> 
> Jaime finally shows Sansa Casterly Rock


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey to the Rock continues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Everyone
> 
> First, let's start this right by saying Happy New Year!~
> 
> A big thanks to everyone's support in 2019. I kind of stumbled my way into this, and through a lot of ERROR and trial, here I am. For those still with me, your support is nothing short of amazing and I'm humbled daily by it.
> 
> So I hope you enjoy this little chapter and thanks for sticking with this story and with me. 
> 
> All the best in 2020!
> 
> T

Sansa marvelled at the journey she was on. She would never have conceived that somehow when they had ended up back in King's Landing, she would have the chance to see so much of Westeros as she was now. She soaked in each day, gathering knowledge of the land and people, ensuring that she took each opportunity that was presented to her to broaden her horizons.

As they travelled further West, Sansa couldn't help but think of when her brother had come this same way.

It was true that her brother had taken the Westerlands by storm, amassing great victory after great victory.

The freedom and sheer excitement that she felt that came from seeing something new each day allowed Sansa to understand how Robb had gotten caught up in it all, especially since he'd been victorious in battle. It was incredible to think about what he had done, but the consequences of his victories had been so dire for their house.

She could well imagine the heady feeling he had, defeating the lions in their own homes. So much so that he had forgotten his commitments to the North and his family. It had allowed the Bolton's a way in, a chance to snatch Winterfell from Stark hands.

In her previous life, she'd only seen the North, Castle Black, King's Landing, parts of the Vale and some of the Riverlands on her way down to the capital with her father. Now she could add the Saltpans, Riverrun and soon, Wayfarer's Rest, the seat of House Vance and a loyal bannerman to House Tully. And soon much more of the West.

In two lifetimes, she could claim to have travelled from east to west in Westeros, but only Jaime knew that. What was even more stunning to think was of the regions she'd never even glimpsed at; the Reach, the Stormlands, and Dorne. Jaime had been to those places though, and she gazed thoughtfully at her husband, thinking of all that he had seen.

Her Uncle had explained just how great a force that House Vance could raise, more than House Tully alone, and how he planned on adding two thousand men as they made their way to the small castle on the edge of the West and the Riverlands.

"Why do they have so many more than House Tully?" Sansa asked.

In truth, she had treasured the time getting to know her Uncle better. He was an interesting man that took a keen interest in teaching her about her Tully heritage.

"They need all these men, to hold back the West from invading us," The Blackfish grumbled as the castle came into view.

Jaime snorted and shook his head.

"If I recall, Blackfish, the Young Wolf took us apart, keep by keep when he gained entrance to the West."

Brynden grinned. "Aye, lion. He did."

Pride in his nephew shone through as Sansa shook her head at the two of them. Several more days of travelling together had not stopped their snipes at one another, but Sansa thought they enjoyed it too much for either one to stop.

When they were just outside the curtain walls of the castle, they stopped their huge retinue.

It was only, Sansa suspected, because of her Uncle that they were welcomed outside the castle, albeit somewhat suspiciously.

It was an odd situation for House Vance, to have been at war with House Lannister and now in an alliance mere months later, without either side being decimated.

For once, Jaime was grateful that the Blackfish was there if only to allow Sansa the comforts of a proper bed should they be granted entry to keep. He was sure had the Tully man not been with them, it would have been another night in the tent Jaime was coming to loathe.

Lord Karyl Vance relaxed considerably when he recognized Sansa as the daughter of Catelyn Tully Stark and had her reassurance about the new alliance.

"I have brokered the peace myself, Lord Vance, between four regions. The North, the West, the Vale and the Riverlands."

"Months ago, we were fighting each other, Lady Lannister. You understand my reluctance to trust the lions, surely," Lord Vance replied.

He had ridden out to meet them on a small field in front of the curtain wall with a small contingent of men at his side. While Sansa knew there would be no fighting, she desperately wanted a bed for the night and out of the damn tent.

Sansa allowed a hand to rest on her now prominent stomach. At almost four months gone, with twins, there was no denying that Jaime had done his duty to produce the next line of Lannister heirs. And nearly all men were reluctant to deny a pregnant lady some type of comfort. Especially the niece of their liege lord.

"I understand, Lord Vance. I understand that your house has paid a dear price in the wars. As has ours," Sansa said. "My husband's Uncle, Ser Stafford Lannister, was killed at Oxcross by my brother's men, and yet, here we are. In an alliance that must hold if we are to have any hope of bringing peace to Westeros."

Lord Vance said nothing merely taking the new Lady Lannister in, trying to determine if she were being serious about bringing peace to their lands.

Sansa huffed out an impatient breath and looked at Jaime. She arched an eyebrow at him. She wasn't getting anywhere with this stubborn river lord.

"Tell, Lord Vance, have you heard that Highgarden has emptied?" Jaime said, conversationally. The man startled and shook his head, turning his attention to the Golden Lion.

"I had not, Ser Jaime. For what purpose?"

"Well, as I have most of the Lannister army with me," Jaime glanced back, and everyone saw the endless procession of red and gold soldiers, "Along with five thousand Rivermen pledged to the Blackfish, and since I am decidedly_ not_ in the capital, my only guess is that House Tyrell has finally grown bold enough to make a play for the Iron Throne."

Sansa smirked at Jaime's attitude. Everyone so underestimated him, save perhaps his father and her. He was brilliant at war and strategy, and his wit was sharp and cutting when needed.

Lord Vance looked pale at the thought of a Tyrell-Baratheon alliance on the throne and what that might mean for him.

"Of course I cannot speak for you, but I for one would much rather honour my new alliance with the wolves, lions and falcons than hope that the newly formed power in King's Landing does not turn its eyes on the Riverlands."

The man shifted uncomfortably on his horse and looked at the Blackfish. He had no desire to be dragged into another battle, not of his choosing.

"Lord Tully was there at the conclave?" Lord Vance asked. His own father had been at Hoster Tully’s funeral before he’d died at the battle of the Forks. The newly named Lord Vance would honour what his liege lord wanted.

"Aye, he was. I don't need to remind you that Lord Vance is sworn to House Tully, Karyl. And my niece and nephew are both committed to this new alliance."

"Where is the Young Wolf now?"

"Heading North to take back Winterfell. We have the Twins, Lord Vance, along with Harrenhal, the West and soon the North. The Riverlands finally have peace, and we are in a unique position to press our advantage," the Blackfish responded.

The man sighed and then nodded.

"Come Lady Lannister. I'm sure a warm bed and a hot bath would suit your current condition. When you ride out, you'll have more men for your army. Let it never be said that House Vance did not honour its commitments."

Pleased with the outcome, Brynden Tully kicked his horse to ride with his bannerman into the castle, giving Jaime and Sansa a moment alone.

"I never realized how much hatred we had for one another," Sansa murmured.

It wasn't just House Lannister and House Stark. It was the endless network of vassal houses that had no choice but to ride to war when their Lords decreed it that built years of resentment and anger towards one another.

_When did it all end?_ Sansa thought, somewhat morosely.

By the time she had been in a position to play the game of thrones, so many of these people had been dead, and she was left with trying to tame a rogue dragon queen while a mad Queen ruled from King’s Landing. 

It was both frustrating and fascinating to travel through these different regions and take note of the reactions people had to them. And to start to understand what a monumental task was before them – bringing peace to places that had only known war for so many years.

_It made Tywin Lannister's time as Hand to Aerys' even more impressive_, Sansa thought. His time as the hand had been marked by great stretches of peace and prosperity.

"I promise you a warmer reception in the West, little wolf," Jaime said, sighing alongside her. He, too, could see the distrust in the eyes of those they passed in the little villages along the River Road and he could hardly blame them. Even with Tully forces with them, the common people shrunk back from them.

Sansa cocked her head.

"But won't they hate me, Jaime? I am the sister of Robb Stark, and while you've had years to reconcile the losses in battle for the West, for some, they are quite fresh."

Jaime grimaced, thinking of his cousin, Ser Daven, whose very father Sansa had just spoken of, Stafford Lannister. Daven had sworn never to cut his beard until he'd killed Robb Stark, and now Jaime brought the man's sister, as his wife, into Casterly Rock. He'd have to ensure his cousin did not do anything rash towards Sansa or her sister. And that he never went after Robb.

Jaime wanted to promise that those in the West would love her as much as he did, but Jaime knew it would take time. He knew that his father had sent ravens to all houses loyal to House Lannister supporting and proclaiming their marriage. And Jaime knew that there were those in the West that were happy he'd finally done his duty and married.

Before they'd left Riverrun, Jaime had sent word to his father that Sansa was pregnant, although he mentioned nothing about twins. He didn’t need Cersei finding that news out; nor the King.

No matter what happened in King's Landing, Jaime Lannister had a wife, an heir on the way and most of the Lannister army. He had done his duty and secured the legacy of House Lannister. That alone should buy them some goodwill in the West, Jaime hoped.

"I want to say that you will be loved immediately and welcomed warmly my love, but I promised I'd never lie to you. There will be those that are angry with me taking you as my wife, even if they see what it has brought House Lannister."

Sansa gave him a tight nod and then kicked her horse, eager for a bed, bath and hot meal. She tried not to worry over things she could not change, and the West’s reaction to her was not something she could control.

Later that night, secure in Jaime's embrace, her husband cradled their children and whispered in her ear.

"I will love you enough for anyone who might not Sansa. My love for you is endless."

She nodded into his chest, inhaling deeply the scent of sandalwood and musk that was her husband.

"I know Jaime. I do know how much you love me."

He brushed a strand of hair back from her face.

"So many from the West already love you, Sansa. Kevan, my father, Tyrion, Addam. And I know that Lady Alysanne Lefford at the Golden Tooth eagerly awaits your arrival. The West has been without a true mistress, Sansa, for years. Not since my mother, despite what my Aunt Genna might claim her role to be."

Sansa twisted slightly to look at Jaime.

"Tell me about your aunt," she all but begged him.

Jaime snorted and gave her a peculiar look.

"She's brash. Loud. Demanding. She insists on wearing inappropriate clothing, and she speaks out of turn."

Despite his less than flattering description, Sansa heard the affection in Jaime's voice.

"She is tempered only by my father. Her husband is a Frey man, and weak, to the point that no one ever calls her Genna Frey, but Genna Lannister."

"Lions do tend towards arrogance," Sansa murmured, and Jaime's hand reached down and tickled her ribs, nuzzling at her neck.

"We are a proud lot, although I happen to remember a haughty wolf woman welcoming me into her keep in the North," Jaime said pointedly.

Sansa laughed. "Gods, that seems so long ago. I had no idea if you were a plot by Cersei to finally kill me, or if you truly had come to fulfill your vow."

Jaime cupped her cheek, stroking her soft skin. "In truth, dear wife, I had planned to die in the North." He wouldn’t speak of what Cersei demanded of him in regard to Sansa.

Sansa sucked in a breath, realizing they'd never discussed this. "You did?" she whispered.

He nodded. "I did."

"Then why did you come?" she asked, completely bewildered. "Why did you finally leave her, Jaime?"

Jaime flopped onto his back, and Sansa rose above him, her eyes bright and curious. He knew if there was anyone he could speak candidly to, it was her.

"When your bastard brother brought that thing, that wight to King's Landing, I could see perfectly what would happen if we did not band together, to fight together. Nothing else seemed to matter. Not the Iron Throne, or the dragons, or who had the better claim. All I could see was every man, woman and child in Westeros becoming one of them."

Jaime turned and looked at Sansa.

"We had a terrible fight, Cersei and I. I couldn't believe she had lied, again. I couldn't believe that she would stand by and leave the North to that fate. She told me if I betrayed her, I was dead to her." Jaime snorted. "I wasn't surprised when Bronn arrived at Winterfell."

"You're a good man, Jaime Lannister."

He snorted, and Sansa grasped his hand.

"You are. You had no idea if we'd take your head, no idea if we'd let you fight."

Jaime traced a hand down Sansa's pale arm, loving how the flesh pebbled under his touch.

"I had no idea I'd ride north and find the love of my life either. I had no idea that I'd find you." Sansa smiled. "And not a moment too soon, given the way your half-brother looked at you. I swear Sansa, the moment that Dany would have left your keep, the man would have made you his bride."

Sansa giggled, realizing the time had come. Jaime's jealously was adorable but unwarranted. It was long overdue that he knew the truth about Jon.

"He's not my brother, you know," she told her husband, watching as his green eyes widened, and then narrowed.

"Are you saying that Jon Snow isn't Ned Stark's bastard?"

Jaime had lived his entire life content with the knowledge that even the honourable Ned Stark had made this one mistake. He hated the man when he'd heard how he'd cut down Ser Arthur Dayne, Jaime's idol outside the Tower of Joy in Dorne. It had been cowardly done; several men against the best swordsman in Westeros and the only way they had been able to take him.

Sansa shook her head. "He's my cousin."

Jaime's mouth dropped open, and he sat up in bed as if pulled by some unseen force. As he ran a hand through his hair, his mind raced, and he turned back to Sansa.

"Lyanna and…" Jaime swallowed hard as Sansa nodded.

"Rhaegar," she whispered.

"So, he's…" Jaime frowned. _Did that make Jon a Sand or a Waters?_

Sansa shook her head and reached for Jaime's hand.

"He's not a bastard Jaime. Rhaegar annulled his marriage to Elia and married my Aunt. Jon's real name is Aegon Targaryen. He's the true heir to the Iron Throne; if you dismiss the right of conquest stemming from Robert's Rebellion."

"Seven fucking hells, Sansa."

Jaime threw back the covers and began to pace the small room they had been given, his mind racing.

He knew that Sansa and her cousin were close. _Her cousin_. Not her brother. Not a man that was forbidden to her. Her cousin.

The word made him feel ill. Did she regret their marriage, now that she had a different option? After all, if Jon Snow wasn't her bastard brother but a prince of the realm, then he was more than a suitable husband for her. He didn't have the sullied reputation Jaime did. He hadn't fathered bastard children born of incest. He hadn't killed a king.

Jaime thought he might be actually be physically sick he was in such turmoil.

_Why on earth would Sansa want him? Choose him? Love him?_

Not when Aegon Targaryen was not only available to her but loved her.

Jaime's eyes roamed the room, wild and crazy as he felt his world start to crumble.

Surely she would leave him. Why would anyone stay with a man such as him when there was a better choice? /p> 

So lost in his dark thoughts, Jaime barely felt Sansa's hands on him, until she finally slapped him lightly across the face.

"Jaime!" she cried, worry evident on her beautiful face. "Gods, what happened?" she cried. She held fast to him, as he tried to spin away from her. "No!" she ordered sharply. "Tell me what is going on, Jaime."

She was pleading with him, her eyes filled with hurt and confusion. He swallowed hard and took her in. She was ripe and lush, and the sleep chemise barely covered the swell of her stomach. She wore Lannister colours, more and more, and Jaime saw her conversing daily with his men. She had done everything correctly in becoming his wife, becoming a worthy Lady Lannister.

It was he that was unworthy of her. It was always him that was lacking.

"How can you want me when he is now an option?" Jaime asked, voice barely audible as if the words tore from his very soul.

Sansa wrinkled her nose and shook her head, a look of confusion on her face.

"Jon?" She said his name almost distastefully as if the thought had never crossed her mind.

_Admittedly, it had to have, didn't it? _

Jaime knew his wife was brilliant. _Couldn't she, of all people, see how much more a man like Jon had to offer her?_

"Yes, Jon. Aegon. Whatever his fucking name is. He's good, Sansa. Honourable. Fuck, they named him Lord Commander, and he was barely a man. He knows how to lead men, and he doesn't have a vicious sister ready to slit your throat, along with a vile son who beat you and almost had you raped. How could you want me when he is the better choice!"

Jaime roared and stalked away from her, leaving his stunned wife in the middle of their bed.

Jaime prowled the room, the walls suffocating him, wondering how he might survive if she gave him up; if she left him. Hell, for all he knew, she'd birth him his heirs and then ride for Winterfell now that her brother was soon to have it back in his possession. It was a simple enough fact to get Jon back from the Wall then.

Jaime thought he might be ill, just thinking of another man touching her – thinking of Jon touching her.

When he turned back to her, she had a look of such fury on her face that Jaime would have turned away from her, had he not been stunned speechless. Her blue eyes were flashing dangerously as she clamoured off the bed and marched up to him. When she was near, her finger drilled him in the chest.

"Listen here, Jaime Lannister, for I'll only say this once. I am in love with you. I choose you. I knew who Jon was; I've known for an age. I knew before our first wedding in Winterfell. Right then, when Dany ordered our marriage, I could have said no to marrying you. In some ways, it would have been better for the North. But I didn't. Because somehow, against all the odds and better judgment and despite your horrible reputation and the awful things you've done, I love you."

Sansa was sobbing now, big fat tears running down her cheeks and sniffling loudly.

"I don't love Jon like that, and I never have and the fact that you think I could, Jaime…" her voice trailed off, broken and sad.

Jaime cursed himself to every hell that existed. He was an arse. A complete and utter arse. He'd done this to her.

"Fuck, Sansa stop," he pleaded, drawing her into his arms, his heart aching when her fists beat at his chest, ineffectual at delivering physical pain, although the emotional blows reigned down. He deserved every one.

"Jaime, we are pregnant with our children. We are making a new life, a new world. We have the same hopes and dreams. How can you possibly think I want any man but you?"

Jaime cupped her cheek, trying to stem the tears that flowed. "Because I'm the biggest idiot in the seven kingdoms? Because I'm a jealous arse, who still can't believe you love me? That you would choose me."

"Jaime," Sansa sighed, her heartbreaking for him. He'd been so ill-used his entire life. "You're a good man. And you love your family deeply. You're loyal and witty, and you're charming, and you treat me like a queen. You're kind to me, and no one has ever loved me the way that you do, Jaime Lannister. No one. And no one ever will."

The conviction in her voice humbled Jaime, threatened to bring him to his knees. He knew he could kill the Night King himself, save the realm and still never be worthy of her. He picked her up with ease, kissing away her slight protests.

"Let me, wife. I have so much to atone for," he whispered against her lips.

"I will never be worthy of such devotion from one such as you, Sansa," Jaime said when he had her back on their bed. He looked directly into her eyes so that she could see all his truths. "I am a man that has made so many mistakes, my love. I should not have been given you by the gods, for surely there are men more worthy than me."

"Jaime stop," Sansa sighed as he shook his head. He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips.

"But given you I was, and I will not give you up. For anyone or anything, not even the rightful King of Westeros Sansa. You are mine, wholly and completely."

Sansa nodded. "I am yours, Jaime. I pledged myself to you, twice, husband. And I'll do so again if you need a third demonstration."

He gave her a wry grin. "That might be a bit much, don't you think?"

Sansa snorted at him, as Jaime got serious again.

"You knew at Winterfell? Before our first wedding?"

Sansa cupped his cheek. "I did."

Jaime swallowed hard. "And you still chose me?"

Sansa laughed.

"I'll not lie and say I hated how we were forced into our marriage," Sansa said. "But I had hoped that if we had been given time, that we would have made it there on our own Jaime."

"I'd like to think we would have as well. I'd like to think that had we won, and we were not wed, that I would have stayed, in the North, for a time," Jaime said softly.

Sansa smiled.

"I'd like to think so as well. As it was, it was a good thing we were married. Dany had a plan to annul our marriage and force Jon and I to wed, taking our children and making them her heirs when she sat on the Iron Throne."

Jaime thought he might be sick at that thought. He knew the pain of having children that were all but taken from him, and he'd never wish that on anyone, especially Sansa.

"She needs to be stopped, Sansa."

Sansa sighed.

"Her. Joffrey. Stannis. The Night King. Our list of enemies is almost as long as our friends, husband."

Jaime grunted his acknowledgement of that statement, as he drew Sansa into his arms, stroking her back and cradling her close to him.

He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "I'm sorry for my reaction," he murmured into her hair.

She hugged him tighter. "I know there are things in our past, Jaime, that we still feel the effects of. I will not say that the things Ramsay did to me still do not give me nightmares, for you know that would be a lie. But through your patience and love, I get through them, Jaime. You have to trust me, that I love you."

He nodded. "I know, Sansa. I've just felt unworthy, for so long, that it is hard to imagine someone choosing me."

Sansa snuggled deeper into his arms. "Well, I do choose you. So don't be an arse. If you ever leave me Jaime Lannister, go to the other side of the world, because there isn't a place in Westeros that I wouldn't find you and drag you back home. You pledged yourself to me. You're mine."

Jaime chuckled, loving his fierce, possessive wife.

"I am yours, Sansa, for all our days."

"For all our days, Jaime."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next:
> 
> The Westerlands 
> 
> As always, comments are appreciated!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Journey to Casterly Rock continues

After their emotional conversation at Wayfarer's Rest, Jaime and Sansa would hardly be parted as they continued their journey towards the Westerlands.

Arya noticed that Jaime never let Sansa stray too far from his side, dining with her, riding beside her and practically tripping over himself to make sure that she was as happy and content as could be.

Of course, her sister would end up with a husband that doted on her, Arya thought, not resentful but happy for Sansa. Her sister had changed and for the better. She didn't care that Arya sparred each night, never got after her about what she wore, and didn't even scold her poor table manners when Arya practically fought for food against bigger men.

Arya liked being part of the Lannister and Tully army, just like Jaime did.

Jaime was used to living with his men, to living roughly and without the nicer amenities that a lady like Sansa deserved. In many ways, he was happiest when he was with his men and out of the capital.

But he hated that his pregnant wife had been living in a war camp for over two damn months. She put up a brave face, but Jaime knew it was wearing on her, and he could hardly blame her.

They were so close to the West that Jaime wanted nothing more than to push them harder than ever, but he knew their current pace was more than enough for Sansa in her current condition. Besides, they were coming to the mountain passes, and Jaime knew that care was necessary here, more than speed.

"What happened between the two of you?" Arya asked, three days out from the last Castle, taking a rare moment when Jaime wasn't by her sister's side to finally ask Sansa what had happened between the two of them.

Sansa gave her sister a look, wishing she could explain all manner of things, but knowing that option was impossible.

There was no way that Sansa could know about Jon's true parentage at this point in time or a host of other things. At the end, she and Arya had been so close and shared everything at Winterfell, but Sansa knew trying to explain time travel would be impossible, even for sisters.

Hell, trying to convince those in Westeros that an army of dead men was coming for them would be difficult enough.

"We had a slight disagreement, that is all," Sansa said, hoping that would be enough to dissuade her.

It wasn't. She was stubborn as a mule they'd once had at Winterfell.

Arya's eye narrowed. "Did he hurt you? Did he hit you?"

Arya was already outraged, even though there was no reason to be.

Shocked, Sansa shook her head. "Gods no, Arya. No, we have things in our past, horrible things, both of us, that sometimes make us misunderstand the other."

Arya grunted and looked closer at her sister. "So, he doesn't hit you?" Arya had her hand on her little sword when she asked this question.

Sansa's mouth dropped open, and she shook her head again, this time more vigorously.

"Arya no. Nothing like that. Jaime would never, ever hurt me like that."

"But, you said he upset you." Arya appeared very confused over what was going on.

Sansa gave her sister a little laugh. She didn't blame Arya for not understanding how a marriage worked. Even as good as their father had been to their mother, it was nothing like what Sansa and Jaime shared. There was no mistaking the passion between Jaime and Sansa.

Catelyn had once told Sansa that she built her love for Ned, brick by brick, so that it was a solid foundation. That had resulted in a decidedly different marriage than what Sansa had.

Sansa had fallen headfirst into love with Jaime while they were on the brink of destruction at Winterfell. Everything about Sansa's marriage was different than that of their parents and that of Robert and Cersei, who were likely two of the only examples Arya had to go by.

"He did, sister, but nothing that we couldn't work through. That's what happens in a marriage Arya. You have disagreements, and then you work them out."

Arya gave her such an incredulous look that Sansa laughed softly at her sister.

"You really love being a wife, don't you, sister?" she asked, staring at Sansa in wonder.

Sansa smiled and nodded, resting a hand on the growing swell of her stomach. Sansa loved to feel and see the physical manifestation of their love. She was so excited that her children would be born in the Westerlands, in Jaime's home and not in King's Landing.

The only other place she could think of where she might have wanted to have her babies was Winterfell. But now, here, away from her family's Castle, she knew was excited for the Rock. There were so many horrible and bitter memories of that place at Winterfell that Sansa could scare imagine wanting to be there right now.

Casterly Rock seemed new and fresh, a place where nothing bad had happened to Sansa. And she knew that both she and her children would be safe there.

For some reason, Winterfell felt unsafe at this time. Sansa thought it was perhaps because Ramsay was still alive, along with the question of what Stannis would do and knowing the man launched his offensive back into the mainland in the North. There was nothing more important to Sansa than keeping her children safe.

Riding each day, through the rest of the Riverlands, Sansa had plenty of time to think about how Jaime had reacted when she had told him about Jon. In the madness of the Night King and the Army of the Dead, Sansa hadn't realized just how much Jon's feelings had affected him. Everything had happened so quickly when Jaime had come North, in their previous life.

Here, back in time, Sansa hadn't let herself think too much beyond the immediacy of what they were currently trying to accomplish.

But one thing was for sure, Sansa would do whatever possible to make sure that Jon was not killed by his men this time.

During their time together at Castle Black and then Winterfell, Sansa had slowly gotten the story of what had happened to him at that bleak Castle in the North. Like hell, she'd let Alliser Thorne murder her brother again, especially since Sansa wanted to ensure that Melisandre never stepped foot in the North.

Without the Red Priestess, there would be no one to bring Jon back; but Sansa knew the price had been much too high for Jon. Something had changed in Jon when he'd died- he'd admitted that much to Sansa, and it wasn't a good change.

There was just so much to do to try and prevent bad things from happening. Even now, as they pushed on towards the Westerlands, Sansa recognized how much they had already effected past events. They had no way of knowing if those changes would be better or worse in the long run but they were now fully committed to the path they were on, both literally and figuratively.

When they were a few hours away from the Golden Tooth, Jaime came galloping towards the front of the procession where Sansa was on her horse. She was never without her loyal guards, Dacey and Sandor, and usually had either Kevan Lannister, Addam Marbrand or her Uncle with her as well.

Jaime knew she was as safe here as she was anywhere in Westeros.

"Wife," he said, grinning at her.

They had crossed into the Westerlands a few days prior, and Jaime had felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He loved this mountain pass, the crisp air and the winding trail that led towards the small Castle that commanded the hill road between the Riverlands and the Westerlands.

"Husband," Sansa said, smiling at how relaxed he appeared. "You're happier here than I've seen you anywhere," she commented, and Jaime nodded.

"I love my land, Sansa," he told her openly, unashamed of how much a man of the West he truly was. "I am as proud of it as you are of those cold, snowy winter nights in the North."

Sansa cocked her head. "Even you have to admit; you liked being beneath the furs with me in the North, Jaime Lannister."

He threw his head back and laughed, thinking of their stolen moments in Winterfell and the long nights. It was true he had some fond memories there. But nothing like what he hoped to create with Sansa at Casterly Rock.

Jaime loved that he was back in the West and that he had his wife here.

_His wife! _

The best choice they had made was leaving King's Landing and being away from Joffrey's cruel ways and Cersei's increasing jealousy. Here, they were free to be themselves and fall deeper in love with one another. Each day with Sansa made Jaime happier than the last.

Jaime never thought the day would come when he would have a wife he could call his own and that he'd be showing her his home.

He never thought he'd want what his father had insisted was his for his entire adult life; the Rock, the mantle of the Lannister legacy and the responsibility of producing the next lions.

But life had a funny way of giving you what you least expected, and now Jaime couldn't imagine anything else than being married to Sansa; to being her husband.

Even though Jaime had experienced great tragedy at the Rock, with the death of his mother, it was the one place in all of Westeros that brought him the most peace and the most happiness. And he couldn't wait to share that with Sansa.

Every day since they'd left the Riverlands, Jaime had worked hard to trust in the feelings that Sansa had for him. Logically, rationally, he knew that she loved him. _He knew this_. It was making his brain understand it.

He worked hard to believe that he was good enough for her, for his father, for his brother and these men that were under his command. He worked hard to trust that he was the right man to lead the Lannister army and that he was the correct man to be the husband of Sansa Stark.

And if he wavered in the slightest, his loving wife was there to remind him, until he came to see that she had chosen him, again and again. That they were a love match, and that no matter what someone else might be 'better' for her, for some reason, Sansa just wanted him. Him. Jaime Lannister. Even with his tarnished reputation and questionable life choices.

The only blight on their journey had been the fact that the raven they'd received from Edmure Tully said his scouts had spotted nothing when they'd searched for Lady Catelyn Stark. They'd raided the hideout that the Brotherhood Without Banners was rumoured to use, but it was clear that they were long gone from there.

Jaime's scouts and men had been sent back to join their group, and it worried both Jaime and his wife that Catelyn Stark had disappeared so successfully. She was lost somewhere in the Riverlands, and even though their alliance controlled the entire central and northern parts of Westeros, there were plenty of places she might hide.

Sansa had worried incessantly at the damage she might cause, but with no way of knowing what had happened to her, there was little they could do at the point.

When the scouts finally spotted the Golden Tooth, Jaime grinned at Sansa and motioned her forward.

"This is the entrance to the Westerlands, my love. The Golden Tooth is a small but strong keep, and before your brother came along, it was said that no one could take the West from the east without first taking the Golden Tooth, held by House Lefford."

"How did Robb do it?" Sansa asked, intrigued despite herself.

Jaime grinned.

"It is said his wolf found a goat trail around the castle. In the dead of night, led by Greywind himself, Robb snuck his troops around the Golden Tooth and dropped down on the other side, free to ride hard for Oxcross and Ashmark and eventually the Crag."

"Is that true?" Sansa asked, impressed with both Robb and Greywind.

Jaime shrugged.

"They somehow found a way around us, Sansa, as Lannister guards stood watch in the towers. Not a single man died, and yet, they gained entrance to the West nonetheless."

Jaime grimaced slightly as he slowed their pace.

"While I've had years to come to terms with the defeat we suffered at the hands of the Young Wolf, being back here, it feels…fresh."

Sansa nodded. If it felt fresh to Jaime, she could only imagine what it felt like to the men and women who lived in these lands.

"I can imagine. I think it would be the same if we were to go to Winterfell," she told him, almost shyly.

Jaime winked at her. "Ahh, yes, the place with the furs, my love."

"Jaime," Sansa said, blushing furiously.

"If it makes you feel more at home, I'll pile our bed at the Rock with them, wife."

"We'll share a chamber?" Sansa asked suddenly, and Jaime stopped his horse, looking directly at her.

"I had presumed we would, but I do know that some high born women prefer their own," Jaime said quietly.

"I'd love to share a chamber, Jaime," Sansa said, giving him a brilliant smile. "I can hardly stand to be parted from you most days; I'd hate to be parted in the night. Besides, you know I cannot sleep by myself. I was miserable in King's Landing until we were wed."

"Then sleep alone you shall not, as long as I am near," Jaime told her, grinning like a fool.

"Sire," came a voice from in front of them. "Lady Lefford has come down from the castle and awaits you and your bride."

"Come, Sansa. Let us meet the lovely Lady Lefford and beg entrance to her Castle," Jaime said, winking at her.

In truth, House Lefford was a principle house of the West, sworn to House Lannister. They controlled this mountain pass for the Lannister's, not as a favour but because they'd sworn loyalty to Jaime's House hundreds of years ago.

Jaime and Sansa rode together, on their white horses, resplendent in their red and gold; Jaime's cloak and Sansa's dress.

Winter hadn't yet come to the south, but being in the mountain pass, there was a chill in the air, and Jaime had somehow procured a stunning white and grey fur cloak for Sansa, which he'd given to her a few days earlier. She looked every inch, both a lion and a wolf.

When they finally neared Lady Lefford, the older woman had a pinched look on her face. She bowed her head and murmured, "Ser Jaime."

Though her tone was respectful, Sansa could practically see the tension radiating off the woman.

Her golden hair was liberally shot with grey, and she wore a dark gown that signified she was still in mourning. Jaime had explained how her husband, Lord Leo Lefford, had died at the Battle of the Fords, fighting Sansa's. Uncle Edmure, and under Tywin's command.

It was apparent the woman still held some resentment for Houses Stark and Tully, and Sansa could hardly blame her.

"We received your father's raven, My Lord. Congratulations on your marriage," she said, voice tight and not congratulatory at all.

Sansa swallowed hard. This had been exactly what she had been afraid of – that the damage done during the War of the Five Kings by House Stark was too much for some to reconcile with her becoming Jaime’s wife.

"Thank you, Lady Lefford. I have been raving to my wife about the hospitality in the West, telling her that there is nowhere in all of Westeros quite like our homeland," Jaime said, smiling tightly.

To anyone else, they might mistake Jaime's countenance for arrogance, but Sansa saw the anger. He was unimpressed with Lady Lefford’s reception of them.

"I'd hate for you to make a liar out of me, Lady Lefford, on our first night in the West. Imagine how upsetting it would be to my wife, should we be received poorly."

An embarrassed red mark stained the lady's pale cheeks, and Sansa wanted to intervene, but she knew Jaime needed to establish himself as the next Lord of Casterly Rock.

The Great Lion was not here, but in the Capital and right now, the Lannister in charge of the West was her husband.

Lady Lefford gave a slight bow to her head.

"Of course, My Lord. House Lefford is always and forever loyal to House Lannister. It is why the shame of having Lord Stark best us, move past us, unknown and not detected, stings to this day."

Jaime wanted to heave out a sigh. The woman was in mourning, angry and lashing out. He glanced past her to her son, not quite yet eighteen if Jaime had to guess, along with a daughter who was perhaps a year or two older. He did understand her anger, and Sansa was an easy target for such anger. But neither Sansa nor Jaime had started the War of the Five Kings and Jaime refused to allow his wife to pay, once again, for her brother’s victories.

"I understand, My Lady. War is never pleasant, and the consequences grave and felt far and wide. But we are no longer at war with Houses Stark or Tully. My marriage to Sansa Stark, at the time a princess of the North, has secured peace for those three regions, Lady Lefford."

The woman's pale blue eyes finally locked on Sansa, and she drew her nose up even more.

"There are many in the West, Ser Jaime, that had wished to see the heir to Casterly Rock marry someone from the West."

The woman didn't even bother to hide the glance she gave to her daughter. Jaime had to give the woman her due; she was a bold one.

Jaime barked out a harsh laugh, and the sour look on the woman's face returned.

"I'm sorry, My Lady. It seems you've somehow misunderstood your place. Neither I, nor my father, would have ever consulted you on who I should marry. Indeed, I avoided such an entanglement for so long, that only the most stunning woman in the entire kingdom could become my wife. And that was Lady Sansa.”

Sansa shook her head at Jaime defence of her and straightened her spine. She would not let this woman make her feel less. She was not her bother, and the woman's liege lord, Tywin Lannister himself, had agreed to their marriage. If anything, this woman was treading perilously close to being insolent, and Sansa knew that Jaime would not take well to that.

"Lady Lefford, let me speak frankly. When I married Ser Jaime, our Houses agreed to a peace, ending the endless cycle of violence and death between our houses. I neither want nor need your approval for my marriage, as I had the Great Lion's. His approval holds infinitely more sway than yours, My Lady."

The woman glared at Sansa, but couldn't argue with that statement. Tywin Lannister was loved in the Westerlands the way that Ned Stark had been in the North.

"Lady Lefford, did you know that the Great Lion himself walked me down the aisle to Ser Jaime? And before that, he gave me Lady Joanna's necklace for the occasion."

The woman's eyes widened, and she startled at that bit of news. Everyone in the Westerlands knew how much Tywin Lannister loved Lady Joanna. It was obvious that Sansa had been fully accepted by the Great Lion as an acceptable bride for his beloved son if what Lady Sansa said was true.

"Now, Lady Lefford. I am tired, sore, and in need of a bed, bath and warm supper. My husband is your liege lord, and I am now your lady. Kindly escort us into your Castle, and bestow upon us some of the hospitality that Jaime has waxed on about for days, lest I have to call him a liar."

Jaime grinned at her.

"She's magnificent, isn't she?"

Then the grin was wiped from his face, and his face was granite.

"If you ever disrespect her in such a way again, I'll have you removed, Lady Lefford, and taken to the Rock. I'm sure there is an empty cell or two where you can sit and contemplate your loyalty to our House. The Golden Tooth is fine Keep for a loyal house."

The woman paled but nodded. "My apologies, My Lord, My Lady. Welcome to the Golden Tooth."

With that, she turned and galloped up the steep hill and through the main gates of the Castle that looked like it had been built on a small plain between two mountains, the only natural passageway through the hilly terrain.

"Well that was pleasant," Sansa snorted and gave Jaime a look, just as Addam, Kevan, Arya and Sandor approached.

She was pleased to say that her husband did not take the woman's attitude on his shoulders but instead snarled that she had sorely misjudged him if she thought to insult his wife.

"Who was the cunt?" Sandor asked.

They hadn't been close enough to hear what the Lady of the Golden Tooth had said to them, but her body language was clear. The woman did not like Jaime's wife.

“It is nothing, Clegane,” Jaime said. The last thing he needed was for the Hound to take it upon himself to defend Sansa. That would be a right mess for all of them.

"I promise you, Lady Sansa, if there is ever a chance for you to come to Ashmark, we will throw open the gates and feast for days, so pleased that you tamed the Golden Lion," Addam Marbrand said.

He'd been by Sansa's side since they left King's Landing and had seen how true that wolf's love was for her lion. He was pleased for his friend, that his marriage had resulted in love. Addam knew that it was what Jaime craved more than anything. Love and acceptance, of which he had both from Sansa.

Sansa's smile to Addam Marbrand was stunning.

"Thank you, Ser Addam. I look forward to that day and cannot wait to see your family's seat."

Jaime's loyal man looked towards Sandor Clegane and sneered.

"And you, Clegane? Any chance you'll want to show Lady Sansa Clegane Keep?"

Sansa watched as Sandor paled and snarled, spurring his massive black horse ahead of the rest of them. Sansa's heart clenched for her friend. She knew how much he hated that place. He'd shared so much with both her and Arya in the future when he'd been at Winterfell, and Sansa knew that was a place of abject horror for the big man.

"Ser Marbrand," Sansa said, tone once again clipped. "Please do not anger my guard any more than necessary," she commanded and shook her head at him.

Sansa wasn't an idiot. She knew there were many loyal to House Lannister who hated Sandor Clegane and how he'd abandoned King Joffrey in King's Landing. But it had been decreed by Jaime himself that Sandor was not to be touched; by anyone.

When Sansa rode ahead, Jaime gave a look to Addam. “I know you are my loyal friend, and that you have come to care for my wife, Ser Addam. There are things I cannot and more to the point, will not explain. But know this. Anyone who does anything to upset Sandor Clegane will answer to me.”

“But Sire,” Addam said, perplexed. “You know what Clegane did in King’s Landing; how he abandoned the King.”

Addam’s pointed look told Jaime all he needed to know. Addam knew exactly who Joffrey was.

Jaime shook his head. “And do you know what King Joffrey did to her? To my wife? He had her tormented; tortured, whipped and beaten and stripped. He humiliated her, Ser Addam and the only person in that entire vile place that stood up for her, that was her friend, was that man. So please do not talk to me about Sandor’s loyalty. He is loyal to the person that counts.”

Addam swallowed hard and nodded. “I had no idea,” was all he said and Jaime spurred his horse and rode away, trying to catch Sansa so they could enter the Tooth together.

When they were settled late that night in their chambers, Jaime gave a weary sigh as he watched Sansa go through her nightly routine.

He could see how much she appreciated the proper bath and room, and while the Golden Tooth was a perfectly adequate castle, the reception of Lady Lefford had left a bitter taste in Jaime's mouth, and he was complaining about it. Loudly.

Finally, Sansa put her brush down and turned on in her seat to look at Jaime. He was lounging in bed, both tunic and breeches loose, blond hair artfully tousled, and a look of disgust on his face.

She wondered if he had any idea just how handsome he was. He seemed to have some level of awareness, as she'd seen him use that smirk of his on all manner of people to get his way. But by and large, he seemed not to understand the power he had.

"I blame your father on my reception," she said, knowing she needed to say something startling to get him out of his mood.

"My father?" Jaime sputtered, his eyes wide. "How do you figure wife? He sent ravens stating you are my wife and supporting our marriage to everyone in the West."

Sansa shrugged. "Think about it, Jaime. Your father, while a brilliant man, married his cousin, who brought him no lands, no wealth, no alliances. Then, he compounded that by doing the same thing for your Uncle Kevan."

Jaime's eyes were just about popping out of his head, and Sansa leaned forward in her chair.

"If your father had truly wanted to build alliances for House Lannister, both he and your Uncle could have made better marriages. Of course, people in the Westerlands were going to be upset when the Golden Lion, the son of the mighty Tywin Lannister, married someone from the North. Someone whose brother the people here were just at war with Jaime. It is a perfectly logical reaction.”

Sansa shrugged at his incredulous expression and then she snorted. 

"I'm half surprised he didn't try to tie you to House Tyrell."

Jaime gaped at her before he threw his head back and laughed.

"Oh gods, I hope to see the day when Tywin Lannister finally realizes he has met someone to match his wit and cunning, dear wife. You are sure to continue to challenge him daily and I live to see that."

Sansa smiled at Jaime, rising to come to the bed, pressing her lips to his as she reached the bed.

"Husband," she said, carding her hands through his hair, tilting his head so that he had to look up to her.

"You married a wolf, Jaime and the last time a wolf was in the West, the damage was considerable to the people that live here. I have no doubts, in time, that they will come to see how much I love you. But for now," Sansa said, accepting that her reception might not be precisely what Jaime wanted it to be, "It is what it is."

"Do you really think these women were hoping to snare me for their daughters?" Jaime asked, somewhat bewildered.

Sansa's assessment had shaken him, he could admit. Jaime wondered for a moment if his sister had somehow seen their father's marriage and their relationship in the same way and therefore believed they were acceptable? Although even Jaime knew that twins and cousins were two entirely different scenarios.

Sansa gave him an incredulous look. "Yes, Jaime, I do. I can’t imagine a single mother in the West not wanting you for her daughter.”

"But even with my reputation…" he started to say as Sansa laughed.

"Jaime, you are heir to the wealthiest Kingdom in Westeros, an accomplished knight, one of the most handsome men in the land and until recently, unmarried. I'd be surprised if we didn't see more of this the further we travel here in your lands," Sansa said, knowing that no matter how Jaime viewed himself, the realm saw him as a catch. It was why her mother had, for at least a moment, be able to accept their marriage. He had been, until recently, the most eligible man in the realm.

Jaime frowned. "I've never asked for this, Sansa."

She cupped his cheek, stroking her hands over his handsome face. "I know, my love. I know."

She wanted to giggle at the put-out look on his face. She remembered her brother and Theon, and reluctantly Jon, trying to catch the eyes of pretty maidens and later, pretty whores when they went into Wintertown. For all his beauty, and make no mistake, Jaime Lannister was a beautiful man, he was wholly unaffected by his looks.

_It was incredible, really_, Sansa thought.

"I love you, Sansa. I've never, well, you know, with anyone else besides Cersei," he said, almost embarrassed at his lack of female companionship and how to tell his wife that.

Sansa kissed him gently. "I know, love. I know."

Jaime's arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly to him.

"Even what I had with Cersei, Sansa, it is not comparable to what I feel for you. To have you here, as my wife, in my homelands. To be able to ride by your side, proud and unashamed that you are mine. That they are mine," Jaime whispered, pressing a kiss to her prominent stomach. His voice was thick with emotion.

"I cannot explain what it feels like, Sansa. To know you are mine. For all of Westeros to know you are mine.”

Sansa simply nodded at him, too overcome with his declaration to speak. Instead, she crawled into their bed, allowing Jaime to strip the sleeping gown from her form and press kisses to her body as he worshiped her until she was begging for him to join with her.

"My wife, my wolf," Jaime said, when he did, the feeling of Sansa more welcoming than anything the Kingslayer had ever felt.

It was as if Sansa had been crafted for him alone, and he knew there would never be another woman in his life that he joined in this way except for her. He captured her cries in his mouth, needing this moment to be between them and only them and grunted his release quietly when it washed over him.

That night the slept tangled in one another, both needing the connection to the other, even in sleep.

The next morning, Sansa woke up to find her husband watching her. She could see his eyes were worried.

"What is on your mind, my lion?" Sansa asked.

"I feel unsettled at how things are with Lady Lefford. House Lefford has always been loyal House Lannister, and this rift between us frustrates me, Sansa."

Sansa loved how Jaime's mind worked. She knew if she said so, he'd brush aside the compliment, but he had the right of it. Lady Lefford had all the reason in the world to be wary of Sansa; of any Stark.

"Loyalty must be worked at Jaime. Nurtured and cultured and respected. Loyalty cannot be assumed in perpetuity, Jaime, or else things like House Bolton and House Frey happen."

Jaime arched an eyebrow and Sansa shook her head.

"I'm not suggesting that House Lefford would ever rebel in such a way, Jaime. But her husband died fighting my Uncle. My brother embarrassed her house by sneaking past them. And now you bring a Northern woman home as a wife."

Sansa sighed.

"I remember what I felt like when Jon brought Dany to Winterfell, and both of them simply assumed that we would welcome her with no effort on her behalf. That the North would welcome her just because she claimed she was the true heir to the Iron Throne. Let's be better, Jaime, than her. Let's make an effort, my lion."

Jaime pressed a soft kiss to her lips. "And what does my brilliant wife suggest?"

"Let's call a small conclave and speak to their fears; acknowledge what they feel and try to assuage those fears, not pretend they don’t exist."

“Brilliant,” he murmured again, so pleased that she was his.

Jaime readily agreed. But first, he called for Lady Lefford herself and asked for a tour of the castle. Her face had no lost the look of anger and distaste from yesterday.

"In particular, My Lady, I am wondering if the gold trains from the Tooth are still plentiful?"

The woman nodded and led both Jaime and Sansa down and endless network of stone steps that had been carved into the very mountain itself. Though both Jaime and Lady Lefford's son carried a torch, the passageway grew damper and darker, until finally, they were at the bottom. When the Lady of the Keep gave the nod, her son and Jaime lit the torches on the wall, until the entire chamber beneath the Tooth shone in golden radiance.

Sansa gasped and clutched at Jaime's hand. “Jaime, this is incredible!”

The cavern must have been at least one hundred feet deep and so wide that Sansa swore ten men could stand, arms outstretched and not even reach each side. And everywhere Sansa looked were giant vaults filled with gold.

Jaime nodded, pleased with the sight.

“I thought I heard a rumour that all the gold in the Rock had dried up?” Sansa said in wonder.

Jaime chuckled. “I believe there is still a vein or two left to tap. And I also know that it was my father that started such a rumor.”

“Why?” Sansa asked, perplexed.

Jaime shrugged. “So that people like Littlefinger might think they had some leverage over us.”

“Still, Jaime, this is incredible,” Sansa said, awed by such a sight. She had always known that House Lannister was wealthy, but this defied anything in her imagination.

"House Lefford remains ever true to House Lannister, Ser Jaime," the mistress of the Golden Tooth said, a bite to her tone, but pride as well, and drawing their attention back to her.

"You do.” Jaime smiled at her. “And because of that, you shall be rewarded for your loyalty, My Lady. Call a conclave with your noble houses and have a single vault brought to the Great Hall in three days hence. We will address the Lords of the realm then," Jaime said and turned and took Sansa back to the main floor.

"What is your plan?" she asked when they were far enough away from the lady of the Keep.

"My father was never one to keep all his gold in one spot, especially when the gold from the Tooth helped establish House Lannister as the wealthiest in Westeros." Jaime shrugged. "There are plenty of widows and orphans that are most likely struggling, along with men that were injured in the wars. It is time that the Lannisters took care of those that fought for us. Allowing Lady Lefford to distribute gold among the people of the high pass, in celebration of our marriage and the end of the war between our houses will bring us goodwill, Sansa."

Sansa squeezed Jaime's hand, impressed. "Jaime, that is brilliant."

"You think so?" he said, a bit of doubt colouring his words.

"I do," Sansa assured him, then hurried them to their rooms to prepare for the small conclave that was about to happen.

Sansa knew this was a critical meeting, and it would set the tone for her time in the West. She didn't expect to be loved immediately and for no reason, but she would ask to be given a chance to prove herself, not only to Jaime but to the houses that swore loyalty to House Lannister.

Sansa wanted to earn the love of these people, and they needed to plan what they might say.

That was way, three days later, Sansa dressed carefully for the meeting. She knew that the impression of her would be everything to these people, and while she wanted to respect House Lannister, she would also take care to show these people that she was not less than they were.

She would not be ashamed of her name nor her House, so the pale grey gown, embroidered with gold and silver thread, spoke to a combining of their two great houses.

Jaime chose breeches and leather doublet, a darker red than usual. While he would forgo his armour, he strapped both sword and dagger to his side. Even in the West, he trusted no one with the safety of his wife.

Waiting for them outside their room, were Sansa's two guards, Dacey and Sandor, along with Arya and her Uncle.

Jaime shrugged at Sansa’s look at who he had invited to come with them to the conclave.

"Our marriage formed an alliance, and they represent the other main regions that are part of it. I take your point, Sansa, at working at ensuring loyalty remains where it is pledged, but I will not compromise on your safety, nor on what you mean to me or who you are. Do not ask me to be someone I am not, wife," Jaime told her softly, and Sansa relaxed her shoulders.

"I won't, I just wonder at having both my sister and my Uncle. And Sandor there," Sansa said quietly to Jaime, who rested a hand on the small of her back, guiding her to the main hall.

"It is not House Lefford that rules the Westerlands, Sansa, but House Lannister. Both Stark and Tully are pledged to our alliance. Trust me, little wolf."

Sansa gave him a nod. She did trust Jaime and they were in the West. Then she schooled her features into a remote mask, sure that none of the Lords from the West would appreciate receiving a grinning Lady Lannister.

When they entered the Great Hall of the Golden Tooth, Sansa noticed three things.

First, a massive gold train was occupying the middle of the room.

Two that both Kevan and Addam were also here.

And three, that every single lord or highborn man in the region must have made haste to make this impromptu meeting. The hall was almost bursting; it was so full.

Upon their entry, all eyes swung to them, and most were hostile. It was worse than the meeting they'd held in the Saltpans. There Sansa had known she held vital information and needed to hold both her brother and mother accountable for their actions.

But here, these were the very people that had suffered when the Great Lion went to war against House Stark. And he had gone to war because Petyr Baelish manipulated her mother, who with said advice, kidnapped Tyrion. Sansa didn't blame Tywin for his actions in the least.

Still, Sansa knew she could do more good than harm here, and she was genuinely excited to be in the West. She loved Jaime as no other woman did, and she had his children, his heirs in her womb.

"Ser Jaime Lannister and his wife, Sansa of House Stark," someone cried, and all those there dipped their heads in respect before seats were taken.

When they were settled, Jaime spoke first.

"Lady Lefford, House Lannister, thank you for your hospitality and your kindness, shown not only to my wife and her family but to the entire Lannister host. We will not impose on you long; only enough to rest and continue towards Casterly Rock."

"Ser Jaime, House Lannister is always welcome at the Golden Tooth," she replied smoothly, before furrowing her brow. "We have and always will remain loyal to House Lannister. But let us speak bluntly, Ser Jaime, as war and fighting have stolen so much from so many. Months ago, we were at war with Houses Tully and Stark. You can imagine the surprise in the Westerlands when ravens arrived from the Capital from the Great Lion himself, openly supporting your marriage to Lady Sansa of House Stark."

A grumble of agreement rolled through the hall and Sansa sat perfectly still. She'd learned long ago never to flinch or show fear to those who sought to intimidate her, and she would start now.

Jaime nodded and cleared his throat.

"I can imagine the surprise of many houses in the West, especially as it has been my father's greatest hope for me to marry and take my rightful place as his heir. It is fortuitous for us all, then, that my marriage did more than just secure the Lannister line. It also ended a war."

"A war that the North started by kidnapping your brother, Lord Tyrion," the woman continued, undeterred.

Jaime shifted. "Well, yes."

"So now we are supposed to be grateful that you married a woman from the very house that is responsible for dragging us into such a conflict?" another lord sneered.

Another louder rumble thundered through the house and Sansa could almost taste the discontent on their lips.

Sansa looked at him and then rose and met the man's eyes until he looked away, and silence descended.

"It is true. A war between our houses started when my mother, Lady Catelyn Stark, kidnapped Lord Tyrion. She did so on false information given to her by a trusted friend, Lord Petyr Baelish."

"And where is Baelish now?"

"Dead, by my husband's sword," Sansa answered, and the grumbling turned to approval.

"And Lady Stark? Where is she?"

"She escaped on her way to be held in the cells at Casterly Rock," Jaime said, rising to stand by his wife.

"And the Young Wolf?"

"My brother goes home, to the North, to Winterfell. There were traitors to House Stark and House Tully. Houses Frey and Bolton meant to kill my brother at the Twins and take the North for themselves."

The Lords and Ladies of the West shifted in their seats, wondering what other interesting facts might be revealed. Momentarily forgotten was their distrust of Lady Sansa now that they were in her confidence.

"To prevent that, Jaime and I met with the North, the Vale, the Riverlands and the West at the Saltpans, to forge a new alliance, a stronger alliance – an alliance we hope will make our four regions strong and bring us all the peace we desire."

Murmurs started again through the hall as Sansa met and held the gazes of the gathered Lords. She’d done so enough times at Winterfell, that it was second nature to her by now.

"I will not come into your homes, your castles that belong to the West and say you do not have cause to be suspicious of me. My brother fought here in the West and men you loved died because of that. My Uncle's men killed brothers, husbands and sons – as did men from the West kill them. We've all lost someone irreplaceable in the War of the Five Kings, and that hurt shall not be forgotten. I would never ask that of you, and neither would my husband."

Sansa paused, the entire hall entranced by her.

"I will confess that Jaime has told me many things about the Westerlands, from its beauty and it's hospitality to the pride that those from the West have. I will say that I am excited to see Casterly Rock, for I have been told it is a keep without comparison in all of Westeros."

A mighty cheer rang through the hall at that statement, and Sansa smiled and looked at Jaime, finally and even the most skeptical amongst them could see the love that Lady Sansa had for her husband.

"Marriages are made every day in Westeros for lands, alliances and coin. And while it is true that our marriage helped to end a war, I love Jaime Lannister with my entire heart, and I hope that one day, the people in the West will love me as well."

Sansa's voice caught at the end, and Jaime was there to hold her.

Jaime was done. They had given these lords at the Golden Tooth their pound of flesh. They had answered their questions, and now his wife was sobbing as she all but begged for them to love her. Her. The best woman in Westeros.

"Sansa," he said, dragging her into his arms, pressing a kiss to her lips.

"Let me finish, husband," she told him quietly, and he reluctantly let her go, keeping his hand in hers as she turned to address them once more.

"I am aware of how beloved House Lannister is in the West, and I am so very thankful for that. But there is one more thing you must know about my husband," Sansa said, her voice graining in volume. “It is past time those here knew who Jaime Lannister really is.”

"Sansa," Jaime let out a warning growl.

"No. I will not live with this lie, Jaime. Not this time." She told him this firmly but lovingly. He held her eyes, as those in the Hall were transfixed by them. They sensed something monumental about to happen.

Jaime gave a small nod. “Alright Sansa, we will do this your way.”

Sansa’s corresponding smile was brilliant and she squeezed Jamie’s hand, overwhelmed with the trust he was giving her.

"So many of you in the Hall know the story of Jaime Lannister, and like most in Westeros, you think you have the truth. But you do not. You do not know why my husband made the choice he did, to become the Kingslayer, to bring dishonour to his house, his name and his region."

Sansa hated that word in her mouth and had vowed never to speak it unless necessary. But it had been necessary here, today. These people that were pledged to House Lannister needed to know who Jaime Lannister truly was. It was beyond time this shame was lifted from Jaime’s shoulders.

"But it is time you did."

The entire Hall sat hanging on Sansa's every word. There were many here who had said, to themselves and their wives, that Jaime had brought more dishonour to House Lannister than even his grandfather Tytos, and that he was hardly fit to be the Great Lion's heir. Many had wondered at the loyalty and devotion that Tywin had shown Jaime over the years.

And now, the Golden Lion's wife was set to reveal the reason why Jaime had done what he had.

"Aerys was mad and growing worse by the day. When Tywin Lannister took the mighty Lannister army down the Gold Road to King's Landing, Aerys' knew the battle had been lost. He charged Jaime with bringing him his father's head, and once that was done, the King planned to destroy the city of King's Landing. He planned to murder every man, woman and child in the city, burning them with caches of wildfire he'd hidden beneath the streets."

An audible gasp of horror rose from the Hall, and all eyes went to Jaime, who could only look at Sansa.

"What a terrible choice for anyone to be faced with, let alone a seventeen-year-old who'd sworn vows to a King. Vows he believed in, that now forced him to question everything. Did he murder his own father to keep his vow to his King? Did he allow the Mad King to kill half a million people?"

Sansa's voice caught as she met the eyes of Lady Lefford. The woman gave one curt nod, and Sansa continued.

"Or did he break his vows? Did he become a Kingslayer, an oathbreaker? A man without honour?"

Had Sansa looked around the Hall, she would have seen the looks of shame and guilt on the faces of many. They had believed the ugly story, and Jaime had never refuted it. Of course, Kevan, Addam and the Blackfish had heard it all at the Saltpans, but neither Arya nor Sandor had, and both were all but gaping at Jaime as the truth came out.

"He was seventeen years old and had sworn vows he believed in, to protect a Mad King that wanted to murder innocents. So he made his choice. He killed his King and his pyromancer before they could light King's Landing on fire, and then sat and waited for the judgement of those who would find him. The first man to do so was my father."

Lady Lefford rose then as well and came to stand close to Sansa.

"Our Houses have a long and ugly history, My Lady," Sansa said, "And I no more expect you to trust me than I trust you. But we are allies now, Lady Lefford. I carry my husband's heir in my womb, and I love him."

The woman nodded, her eyes sheened with tears as she looked towards Jaime. "Why did you not tell us, My Lord?"

Jaime shook his head, a bit stunned and unable to form a response as Kevan and Addam rose as one, drawing their swords and arching them high.

"To Jaime Lannister, our lion and our Lord," Kevan cried, and soon the chant began in the Hall.

Jaime stood in awe. He had known, of course, how many people, even here where Lannister's were loved, looked at him oddly because of what he had done. He'd never thought to reveal his secret, thinking it was too far in the past to make any difference.

But apparently, it wasn't. And somehow, Sansa knew that the reasons for his choice, his terrible choice, needed to be revealed.

"Welcome to the Westerlands, Lady Lannister. May your time here be happy and fruitful," Lady Lefford finally said, when the men had quieted, and all eyes on the Hall were back on the two women. She had reached out to grasp Sansa's hands. "I will not make false promises as my pain is still too fresh. But House Lefford, as always, remains loyal and true to House Lannister."

Sansa nodded at the woman. It was enough. It was more than enough. In time, perhaps, they might heal some of the damage done by the wars. Today was the first step.

"I will endeavour to learn as much as I can about my husband's region," Sansa replied, and they exchanged a brief look before Lady Lefford turned, once again, to find her seat.

"And the gold?" Someone cried. Sansa and Jaime had all but forgotten about it in the emotional exchange that had just taken place.

Jaime laughed easily and winked. "To be given out by Lady Lefford as she decries, for widows and orphans and any man that was injured in the wars. Let us rebuild the West, stronger and more united and ready for our enemies, whenever they may come for us!" Jaime cried, and another massive cheer went up in the Hall.

Then Jaime was separated from Sansa as he was hugged and slapped, all manner of Lords and Ladies somewhat tripping over themselves to speak with him, to pledge themselves anew to House Lannister. A tainted cloud that had hung over Jaime felt lifted until he found himself staring into the scarred face of Sandor Clegane.

"Why the fuck didn't you ever tell me?" the man growled, clearly upset.

"Clegane, I didn't know you cared," Jaime cried, taking a sip from the tankard of ale someone had given him. His throat was parched from the sheer amount of talking he'd had to do. Sansa was surrounded by the ladies of the West, including Lady Lefford's daughter, who was smiling at his wife as Jaime saw Sansa point to her stomach. An older woman wagged a finger and then looked at Jaime, and the Golden Lion grinned as Sansa blushed.

"Fucking care when it's a lie," Sandor grumbled and scrubbed a hand down his face.

Jaime cocked his head and gave the man a look. "My wife insists on telling people the why of my choice, Sandor," Jaime said, using the man's given name. "For the longest time, I wore the mantle of my choice with almost arrogant disdain." Jaime shrugged. “All I had known from the moment I made my choice was judgement. Who was to fight against people’s opinions?”

Jaime looked at Brynden, who was suddenly there. "You asked me once, Blackfish, if it ever bothered me, what people called me."

"Aye, I did."

"And what did I say?"

"Of course, it bothered you."

Jaime nodded. "It wasn't possible to not be bothered by it. An entire realm had no idea why I'd done what I had. But who was I to dispute the claim from the honourable Ned Stark?" Jaime shrugged. "I was young, my father planned his attack perfectly, and it looked like I did what I did for my House and not for some noble purpose." Jaime sighed. “Fuck to this day I don’t even know if it was a conscious choice. Just that I couldn’t stand by and see that much death.”

"Seven fucking hells, Lannister," Sandor said, shaking his head at him. Then the man let out a howl. "Let's get your fucking drunk, lion."

What followed was an evening of revelry, as those at the Golden Tooth celebrated far into the night.

The plethora toasts to Jaime Lannister, the Golden Lion, the protector the West, the next lord of Casterly Rock, ensured that Jaime was well and truly smashed by the time Sansa was ready to sleep.

Sansa knew that what she had given the West back, today, by revealing Jaime's secret, was the ability to believe in him again. She'd remove the stigma that had hung like an albatross around his neck for the past two decades.

Sansa had to have Sandor and Dacey help Jaime into their bed, as he was barely able to keep on his feet. He had enough presence of mind to murmur how much he loved Sansa before he dropped into an ale induced sleep.

When Jaime awoke the next morning, he decided they would not linger at the Golden Tooth, even with his heavy head.

They had done what they could, and now they needed to make for Casterly Rock. More and more, the Rock called to him. Even with the goodwill, Jaime hoped the had sewed with the gold and their assurances that Sansa was not there to sew discord in the West, Jaime wanted home.

It took half a day, but finally, the long retinue began again, this time riding hard for Sarsfield, where Jaime prayed their reception would be well met.

He needn't have worried. Castle Sarsfield was held by Melwyn and his wife Shiele, who was a Swyft and good sister to Kevan. When they came upon the keep, both Lord and Lady rode out to meet them, broad smiles on their handsome faces as they welcomed Tywin Lannister's son home to the West, along with the Lannister army. Shiele fussed over Sansa, lovingly placing her hands on Sansa's stomach, cheering for the new lions that would be born to House Lannister.

Those at Castle Sarsfield were proud of their liege lord and knew how long that the Great Lion had waited for his son to take his rightful place. Still, it was the Lord and Lady that were happiest to welcome Jaime and Sansa.

For the others, while the looks were not as angry, neither were they exactly welcoming. Sansa felt exhausted at the potential of having to win these nobles over as well.

"Come, my dear," Lady Shiele said, taking Sansa to her private chambers where an elegant bath awaited. "You've been travelling for months now and must be exhausted," the woman continued.

Sansa felt her eyes fill with tears. "Why are being you kind to me?" she asked, thoroughly confused. "Haven't you heard? I'm the wicked wolf of the North, come to steal the Golden Lion away," Sansa wailed.

The woman gave a little laugh. "Oh, I doubt that. Do you know how many prayers I've sent to the seven praying that Jaime would find someone that loved him the way you clearly do?"

Sansa sniffed. "I do love him, Lady Shiele. So much."

The woman laughed. "Of course you do. The two of you can barely keep your eyes off one another."

"But don't you hate me because I'm from the North?"

Lady Sarsfield's brow furrowed. "Now, what would be the point of that? Marriages for people like us are made for all sorts of reasons, Lady Sansa. But only when we are lucky, do they result in a love match."

"Oh gods, I love him so much," Sansa said, completely breaking down and sobbing into the woman's lap. Lady Sarsfield just held her and stroked her hair and back.

"Hush now, my dear. You're exhausted and pregnant and so far from home. In three days' time, Jaime will take you to his home, and you'll finally be able to rest properly. You've burnt yourself out, if I may be so blunt. You need to take care of yourself, Sansa and those babies."

Sansa nodded and raised her head. "Thank you."

"Now, take a calming bath and rest. I'll go knock some sense into those men in my dining hall," the woman said, and Sansa thought she might just love her as well.

When she finally exited the bathing chambers, she was wrapped in her warm Lannister robe and found a full meal waiting in their chambers, along with a tonic for her nerve and a roaring fire. The bed was the softest that Sansa had slept in since the Capital and Sansa sunk happily into it just as Jaime appeared in the room.

"Comfortable?" he asked, climbing in beside her.

Sansa murmured she was as Jaime drew her into his arms. He pressed a kiss to her head. "So apparently the rumours of why I am called the Kingslayer have reached Sarsfield, wife." Jaime gave her an arched eyebrow.

"Good," Sansa said, uncaring who knew now.

"Sansa, I can scarcely walk down the hall without someone slapping me on the back. They act like I'm a hero."

Sansa snorted. Her husband was adorable. "You are a hero, Jaime."

"But," he said, scratching at his whiskered cheeks. "I've been looked at with such derision, even from my own bannermen, for so many years that it feels odd, you know."

"I know, Jaime. But it is the truth, and the truth deserves to be known," she replied, happy with the choices she made. Jaime had lived with that loathsome name for long enough.

"You know it'll spread like wildfire through the West, don't you?" he told her and Sansa yawned as she nodded. She patted his chest.

"Go to sleep, Jaime. I know we leave for Casterly Rock tomorrow."

"Three days, Sansa and then we are home," he told her, kissing her lips gently. "Three days, little wolf." She grunted and then all Jaime heard were Sansa’s soft snores.

True to his word, they woke at dawn the next morning. While Sansa wanted nothing more than to bring Lady Sarsfield and her patient comfort with her, she knew she could not. Her place was here, but the two women embraced warmly.

"Thank you," Sansa whispered to her.

"Take care of yourself, Lady Lannister and those lions," the woman whispered back. "You are what we needed. Welcome to the west, my dear lady."

When Sansa rode away from Sarsfield, she had tears in her eyes and Jaime promised they'd send for them when they were at the Rock for a visit.

"Take me home, Jaime," Sansa said and saw her husband grinned.

"Ready, my love?"

Sansa nodded. "I am."

With a whoop of glee, Jaime kicked his horse and charged down the road, Sansa right behind him, eager and excited for Casterly Rock.

As predicted the truth behind Jaime's loathsome name began to filter throughout the Westerlands, as they had assumed. What neither had accounted for, were the merchants and traders; the people that moved between regions bringing goods and trade. And gossip.

And as these people moved through the Kingdom, from west to east, north to south, the story of Jaime and Sansa Lannister grew.

Their love.

Their marriage.

Their pregnancy.

And their power.

There were now four kingdoms fully committed to the two of them, and those living in those regions loved to speak of the hero Jaime, who saved all of King's Landing from the Mad King, and the Northern Princess who tamed the Golden Lion. Where once Jaime's reputation was tarnished and dull, now it was bright and shiny.

Those who had been skeptical began to believe. They started to believe in something good again, and Sansa and Jaime’s reputations grew.

It grew until word reached those living in the capital, where even someone as self-involved and narcissistic as the King heard that his Uncle had taken the Riverlands and the West by storm.

It grew so that the Golden Lion's sister flew into a violent rage when she heard about the beloved Golden Lion and his Red Wolf Wife. 

It grew so that Lady Olenna smirked and plotted when she heard, and listened to King Joffrey rage at what his Uncle and Sansa had done.

And in King's Landing, Tywin smirked and snorted, astonished at what his son and his new wife had accomplished. Tywin knew that Jaime's next move would be to take Highgarden. Olenna had overplayed her hand, moving her men to King's Landing while her granddaughter was still not yet wed to the King. As long as he could forestall the wedding of the King, House Tyrell was exposed and vulnerable.

When Jaime finally took Olenna’s family seat, Tywin knew he'd have the old bitch exactly where he wanted. He didn't concern himself with the thirty-thousand men she had marching towards that Capital. The Roses weren't exactly known for their fighting powers, not like the Lannister army in which his son, his golden son, was entirely in control of.

Tywin had never been as proud of Jaime as he was currently, even if he did have to listen to Cersei’s incessant whining on the matter.

This marriage to Sansa Stark was the best thing that had happened to House Lannister in years, and Tywin sat in his Tower of the Hand plotting his way to the Iron Throne. He had full intentions of seating his son and his wife there in short order, once he had rid Westeros of the current King.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Casterly Rock next 
> 
> Interested in people's thoughts on what they just read if they want to share.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Casterly Rock

"Tell me about our home, husband," Sansa said to Jaime as they rode together, the head of their massive retinue. If she had cared to turn her head, Sansa would have realized she couldn’t even see the end of their army, but she kept her gaze focused on Jaime.

They had just passed through the village of Oxcross and Sansa had felt the tragedy of the land, as if the blood and death that had happened when Stafford Lannister and Robb Stark had crossed paths there was still a living entity.

The Lannister forces had been annihilated here, and the ruinous village was barely functional. Jaime had brought a wagonful of gold from the Tooth to give to the old Septa who was trying to cobble the people together into some semblance of typical village life. She wept, overcome with the gesture, and Jaime ordered an entire regiment of men to stay and help with the rebuilding.

Sansa had noticed the hard looks on the faces of the Lannister host and asked Jaime what had happened at Oxcross. He had been surprisingly tight-lipped about his particular village.

"It is rumoured that your brother cut my Uncle's heart from his body upon his defeat and fed it to Grey Wind, Sansa," Jaime finally told her.

He'd promised he never lie to her, although he never wanted to speak of such a place since he knew it hurt both of them. So much death and violence had happened here.

"Gods, no," Sansa said in horror. Her stomach roiled at such a thought and she wondered what Robb had been thinking.

Jaime gave her a grim nod.

"It was madness that my Uncle did not retreat to the Rock. The men under his command were little better than untrained squires and green men who had no battle experience. My father had the main army with him in the Riverlands." Jaime shrugged. "We never expected your brother to get around the Tooth Sansa. Once he took Oxcross, he pushed further west, to Ashmark and the Crag."

Sansa felt ill. She had known, on paper, about these victories, but to see where they had happened brought them to life in a way that they had never previously been.

"I'll warn you now, my cousin, Ser Daven, well, it was his father that was Lord Stafford, Sansa. He's sworn a vow to kill your brother," Jaime told her plainly and watched as Sansa nodded. Then his wife looked to Dacey and Sandor as if to reassure herself that her loyal guards were still there. Jaime grimaced at the thought that Sansa might not feel safe in his home. 

"I'll speak with him when we arrive, Sansa. But you know as well as I do what men are capable of when they are ruled by revenge and emotions are running high. I will remove Daven from the Rock if he is a problem. It is to be your home, and you will be safe there. But do not expect a warm welcome from him, wife."

Sansa nodded again.

"Thank you for telling me the truth, Jaime. It helps if I know," was all she said, and then they were both silent as they rode out of the decimated village.

Now they were mere hours away from Casterly Rock, and Sansa swore the air was fresher, and that she could almost smell the sea. She pushed aside the dark moments from the areas where they had just travelled.

Being so close, she wanted to know everything there was about Jaime's home.

"It is built into the side of a great sea cliff, my love, so that beneath the Castle itself, the waves of the Sunset Sea crash upon it. The base of the Rock has many sea carved caverns, where we have mined our gold for thousands of years." Jaime gave her a grin. "Of course, as boys we loved to explore them, thinking we were pirates or explorers. My father would scold us when he caught us, sure that we were to be swept away by changing tides, but I always was a strong swimmer, and I kept a close eye on Tyrion."

It was impossible to miss the mischievous grin on Jaime's face when he talked of his childhood, and Sansa wondered if their children would be close, the way Jaime and Tyrion had been. She desperately hoped so. Sansa had such fond memories of her childhood, even if her mother had put more demands on her than the others.

"The Rock is said to be three times the height of the Wall, and almost two leagues long, from west to east, my love. It has tunnels, dungeons, storerooms, barracks, halls, stables, courtyards, balconies, gardens and a sept."

Sansa could scarce imagine a place so vast and that it all belonged to one single-family was staggering. Winterfell was impressive in its own right, but Casterly Rock sounded breathtaking. She was starting to understand precisely where the Lannister's arrogance came from. Jaime had barely reacted to the massive gold stores under the Tooth, while Sansa was still dazzled by such a sight.

"When we arrive, we'll ride through the Lion's Mouth, the main entranceway to the Rock. It is an enormous natural cavern reaching two hundred feet high carved from the mountain itself. The stone steps leading into the Lion's Mouth are wide enough for twenty riders abreast."

"Jaime, it sounds amazing," Sansa said, almost breathless with anticipation.

Jaime knew that riders had gone ahead, to tell of their imminent arrival. The villagers in the smallholdings outside the Rock would line the road, eager to see the Golden Lion and his wife return to the Rock and Jaime was excited for Sansa to experience such a sight.

"If our storerooms are full, it is said that we could withstand a siege for five years." That thought alone gave Jaime a huge sense of security.

"And are they full?" Sansa asked.

She had never felt safer in her life than she did now, as they were closing in on Casterly Rock. She knew the Rock had never been breached, and her husband's army was the best in all of Westeros.

Jaime grinned. "Being filled as we speak. We have our own port, my love, with docks, piers and shipyards, and my father has been filling the Rock with goods since our marriage. I believe my father has ordered enough stores for four or five years."

Sansa marvelled at the pride in Jaime's voice, just as they began their ascent up a small hill. Jaime's green eyes fairly danced in the perfect weather of the day. The sun was shining, there was a slight breeze, and the puffy white clouds in the sky made things like war, murder and plots seem far, far away. Her husband could not have scripted anything better.

People had started to line the roadway, throwing flowers and cheering for Jaime, mostly, as they rode by. Here the looks were warmer and welcoming, which eased some of the worries that Sansa had.

"When we crest this hill, we will pause, my love, for this will be your first glance at the Rock," Jaime said, excitement lacing every word.

Sansa was quiet, wanting nothing to intrude on this moment. Jaime must have given some type of signal, because suddenly it was only the two of them, atop their horses, alone for a moment in time as they climbed ever higher.

"Almost there," Sansa heard Jaime murmur at one point until, suddenly, the top of the hill was upon them, and he halted. Sansa had only ever seen the look on her husband's face when he gazed at her, typically alone in their chambers. She pulled her eyes away from him and glanced down the valley towards the West, towards the Sunset Sea and gasped as she got her first real look at Casterly Rock.

It stood in glorious splendour, one of the largest castles in all of Westeros, so immense Sansa could scarce believe that she was now mistress of such a Keep. It dwarfed Winterfell twice over, easily, and even from this distance, undoubtedly a league or two away, Sansa could see how massive it was.

Jaime had not exaggerated. It rose out of the rock face into which it had been built, the grey stone almost silver as the sun shone down on it.

"They say from a certain angle, it looks like a lion in repose," Jaime said conversationally as he gazed at his wife, a look of stunned wonder on her face.

She turned to him and blurted out the first thing that came to her mind. "Why on earth would anyone want King's Landing when this exists?"

Jaime threw his head back and laughed. There couldn't have been anything she said that would have made him happier.

"It is a puzzle, wife, and one I've never quite worked out."

While Jaime might have resisted marrying in the past, he'd never denied how much he loved his family's seat.

It wasn't just the great keep itself, fairly built into a massive rock wall, but the intricate network of homes and buildings and shops that spread out around it that contributed to the impressive sight. This wasn't even Lannisport, the city that was also ruled by his House that was a mile south of the Rock. That city had almost three hundred thousand people and was where the Lannister fleet was housed and was one of the major ports in Westeros.

"Jaime, it's just..." Sansa gasped. "I'm speechless, truly."

He grinned. "Wait until you see inside. Ready, wife, to see your new home?"

Sansa returned her grin, pausing for a moment to rest her hands on her prominent stomach. This beautiful and imposing Castle would belong to these children inside her. This was half their heritage, and Sansa was excited to learn as much as she could, to become the best mistress of the Rock since Lady Joanna had reigned here.

Seeing Casterly Rock went a long way in understanding men like Tywin and Jaime and even someone like Cersei, Sansa thought. No wonder the Queen had turned her nose up and scoffed when she'd come through the gates of Winterfell. It must have seemed dreadfully underwhelming for her.

Sansa loved her home; she was proud of it and would defend it to any who sought to disparage it. She had fought long and hard to make sure it was back in Stark hands in her previous life. And in this life, she knew, they might even have to go back to Winterfell, to protect it and humanity from what was coming from the North. She would gladly and willingly do so.

But a large part of Sansa loved that this was her new home for now, and she refused to feel guilty for that. So many bad things had happened to her in King's Landing and Winterfell that this seemed like a fresh start for both her and Jaime.

Casterly Rock was so much more than King's Landing, and she couldn't wait to explore every part of the Castle. It reminded Sansa of when she had been a young girl and had hoped for a handsome prince, with a vast castle to love her and marry her. Now that dream was a reality. The hardships she'd experienced along the way might have broken someone else, Sansa knew they had prepared her for this – to become the next Lady of Casterly Rock.

She gave Jaime a huge grin, and then kicked her horse, even her pregnancy not getting in the way of her excitement to see the Rock as her mount made its way down the gradual hill to the valley below. Sansa heard Jaime's laughter behind her, and allowed herself to sink fully into this moment; this happiness that was so tangible she could all but taste it on her lips.

When they reached the valley, Jaime pulled alongside her, the crowd thicker now the closer they came to the castle. Both Dacey and Sandor were right behind her. Even now, in a place Jaime loved, he'd take no chances with her.

Of course, this gave Sansa time to wave and smile and preen for the people. There was no mistaking her pregnant form, and many in the West believe it to be a good sign that the Golden Lion had returned with such a highborn lady that was already ripe with his seed. There were no doubts that the beautiful red-haired woman carried the next heir to the Rock and despite being from the North, here, in the shadow of the magnificent Castle, the people rejoiced at the sight of her.

They rejoiced because the prodigal son had returned, finally wed and prepared to do his duty.

They celebrated because their beloved Rock would have a new mistress and one that had been long overdue.

They rejoiced because Jaime and Sansa represented the future.

And they rejoiced because the tale of Jaime and Sansa had spread far and wide in the West. They had ended the war and brought peace back to the West, and for that alone, the people were grateful.

No longer did they gaze upon Jaime as a Kingslayer and see dishonour. No, now they said the word Kingslayer proudly.

Of course, their Golden Lion stopped a mad King and saved innocent people.

Of course, their Golden Lion did not obey the King and kill his father; what son would, they argued. It had been a horrible request by the King, and indeed, now that they knew the choices facing their favourite lion, they supported him fully.

Jaime had always been loved in the West, but now, he was revered, and he wiggled his eyebrows at Sansa as the crowds got thicker the closer they came to the Rock.

"Gods, if your head wasn't huge already, this won't help," Arya grumbled, sneering at Jaime.

He laughed at her. "Wait until you see the weapons room, little wolf before you sneer at everything the West has to offer."

She let out a grumpy sigh. "And will that include you, Ser Jaime? My sister keeps telling me about you and your skills. She told me what you did to Blount and Trant in King's Landing, barely breaking a sweat. But each night, when we make camp, I look for you, only to find you trailing around after my sister."

"She is a fine woman to trail after," Jaime said, gazing at his wife, who was speaking with Kevan and Addam. Jaime knew his Uncle was excited to see his wife, Dorna, and that Dorna would welcome Sansa warmly into the Castle.

Jaime had sent word for Dorna to prepare his mother's old rooms for him and Sansa. He would not, under any circumstances, have her stay in his old ones, and his father was still Lord of the Rock, so his rooms were out.

Arya snorted. "Don’t you ever get tired of following her around?"

Jaime titled his head, giving the matter serious contemplation. "No. She is my entire heart, Arya. I would do anything to make her happy, to keep her safe."

Arya shook his head at just how love struck Jaime Lannister was for her sister. "Gods, if this is what marriage reduces a person to, count me out."

Jaime laughed at her. "No worries, Arya Stark, your sister will never force you into a marriage. If and when you marry, it will be your choice."

Arya looked at Jaime's face, trying to determine if he was japing with her. When she couldn't see anything but the truth there, she prodded further.

"Truly?"

Jaime hummed his agreement.

"What if I want to be my sister's guard and never marry? Like Dacey?"

Jaime shrugged. "Then I suppose you'll be your sister's guard and never marry."

Arya bit her lip, thinking about that. It sounded too good to be true.

"Of course, you'll always be an Aunt, and as long as you are by your sister's side, she's sure to press you into helping her with the babies," Jaime continued, watching her.

Arya smiled at that. She liked the thought of being an Aunt to Sansa's children, and she was lost in those thoughts when Jaime's voice, now deadly serious, interrupted those thoughts.

"Arya, listen to me. The Rock is the safest place I can have Sansa, in all of Westeros." He held up a hand, seeing a protest on her lips. "I know you love Winterfell, Arya. I know. Sansa loves it as well. But it has been battered and breeched and right now, the North is in flux. We have still not received word that Robb has taken it back, and it is the most vulnerable point in Westeros, save perhaps the Stormlands, but their proximity to the capital makes it an unlikely point of entry."

"Point of entry for who?" Arya asked, not understanding.

"Stannis Baratheon. He still claims he is the rightful King, and he looks for a pathway forward. If I could, I would give your sister the North. But that is not possible right now. I can, however, give her the Rock. This place has never been breached, Arya. And as long as you and Dacey and Sandor are by her side, I will know she is safe. She is everything, Arya. No matter what might happen to me, where I might have to go, promise me you will stay by her side. Train day and night to be the best you can be, to defend Sansa and her children," Jaime all but pleaded with her.

Arya had never thought that Jaime thought much of her plan to be a guard for her sister, but she could see that he was serious. She swallowed hard and nodded.

"I promise, Jaime, I won't leave Sansa's side."

Jaime's shoulders relaxed. "Good. This is good," he muttered. Then he turned back to her. "This is your home as well, Arya. We are family. I know it is not Winterfell, but I hope there are things here that will please you."

Arya nodded for once, not having a jape on her tongue for the Kingslayer. It was clear the man was deeply in love with Sansa and was almost pathological in his need to keep her safe.

Arya wasn't an idiot. While she hadn't spent nearly the hours memorizing things from Maester Luwin the way that Sansa had, the one thing she had learned was about the magnificent Castles of Westeros. And she knew that the Rock was one of them.

Jaime was right. This was the safest place for Sansa in all of Westeros and that was all that mattered. Arya realized, startled, that since she’d joined them at the Twins she felt safe as well.

When Jaime finally caught up to Sansa again, he saw the look his Uncle gave him. They had been climbing back up from the valley floor that the Rock overlooked and now were as close to Casterly Rock as they had ever been.

They were mere moments away from Lion's Mouth, and Jaime wanted this moment to belong to him and Sansa. With a single nod to Addam and Kevan, their procession ground to a halt, the crowds of people cheering for them barely held back, adoration clear on their faces.

Jaime approached Sansa, and the smile she gave him was everything.

"In a few moments, we will be entering the Lion's Mouth, my love. It is a series of steps, leading into the Rock, and the great courtyard. I assume, waiting at the top, will be members of my family, along with those who have been loyal to our house and served us for years. I'd very much like this to be a moment for you and me, for when we climb those steps on our mounts, we will be able to turn around and gaze out at everyone. I want this to be something you remember, Sansa, for all our days."

Sansa's blue eyes burned bright, a sheen of tears and a wealth of emotion in them. She loved how Jaime took care; how he thought of such things. Making this homecoming about them and her new place here was critical for her acceptance in the West. More, she knew how much Jaime loved his home and wanted her to be part of it; she was overcome with so much love for him.

"I'd like that very much, Jaime," Sansa told him, her voice thick as she nodded.

Jaime brought his horse closer to hers, so he could lean over and capture her lips. The crowd went wild as the Golden Lion kissed his bride in front of them. Smiling against her mouth, Jaime whispered, "Come, wolf wife, let me show you Casterly Rock!"

Sansa laughed as Jaime, and they broke apart from the retinue, a beautiful sight in their white horses, with Sansa's golden gown and Jaime's red and gold Lannister armour. A groundswell of love for them rose, as they came to the end of the road and approached the stone steps that would lead to the Lion's Mouth and Casterly Rock proper.

Sansa tried not to allow her mouth to gape open as they cantered up the stairs, but it was impossible given the sheer size. Jaime had not been exaggerating for surely twenty riders abreast could have made this same journey with them. Up and up and up they went, until finally, as predicted, the top appeared before them. Standing there, waiting for them, was Tommen, besides two blond-haired women, Genna and Dorna Sansa presumed, and another man of the West that had quite the beard, a scowl on his face and angry eyes.

And lining the steps were more people than Sansa thought could exist in the West, all of them clapping and cheering. At some point, music and horns began to play, a competing cacophony that was cheerful and bright and only added to the celebratory atmosphere.

It was then that Sansa realized this was a homecoming, a coronation in every aspect but name. The people here were accepting Jaime as the next Warden of the West, the shield of Lannisport, the Lord of Casterly Rock. Tywin Lannister wasn't dead, but this was their next lion. And they loved him, all the more so because they knew the truth of this man that would be their liege lord.

"Jaime," Sansa whispered, and even he had a slightly stunned expression on his face as if he couldn't quite believe such a sight.

Those that waited at the top for them nodded to Jaime and Sansa as they hit the final steps, and as promised, turned as one to gaze upon the scene below them.

Sansa felt her heart thump, faster than it ever had she was sure. For as far as she could see, the Lannister army in red stretched and snaked down the valley, a sure sign of Jaime's power and might. And flanking said army, people. So many people, who cheered and shouted, who called not only Jaime's name but hers. She looked at her husband in wonder, unable to put into words the feeling this day evoked.

They sat there, on their mounts, gazing at people, both of them soaking the moment in until finally a clapping of the hands drew their attention to those that were waiting for them.

Jaime explained that once they dismounted and were on foot, Kevan and Addam would lead Sansa's family up the steps as well, as Dacey and Sandor were suddenly there. Jaime slid from his horse and gave Sansa a look that said, _stay put_, until he was able to help her down. When he had her in his arms, he leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"My cousin, Ser Daven, is the man with the beard. While I am sure he would never harm you, his anger towards House Stark is well established, Sansa. You are to go nowhere without Sandor, Dacey or me."

Sansa arched an eyebrow. "I thought I was safe here?"

Jaime gave an aggravated sigh.

"You are. You will be. It is Daven that worries me most, Sansa. For him, his father's death is fresh, and you, well, you might seem like a worthy person to exact his revenge. I promise you, I will always choose you, Sansa. Please, just give me time to speak with him."

Sansa reached up and stroked Jaime's cheek. "I trust you, husband. And I promise to keep my guards by my side."

Jaime nodded. He knew that the only man in the realm that might be able to challenge Sandor Clegane was Gregor, and he was nowhere near the Rock. Jaime thanked the gods that Sandor was here to keep his wife safe, even if that was from men like his cousin. No matter what Daven was thinking, he’d not attack Sansa as long as Sandor was there, glowering at anyone who dared approach her.

Then, his hand firmly in hers, Jaime turned to greet his family.

It was only as doing this that Jaime realized the implications of Tommen being here. While Tywin had thought to send the boy here, out of Tyrell's hands and a potential alternative to Joffrey as King, Jaime suddenly felt ill at everything Tommen represented.

This was his son; not his nephew and Sansa knew that.

Now, instead of her time at the Rock being about their new family, a living, breathing reminder of his past sins was here. And despite that uneasy truth, Jaime felt thrilled to have this time, with Tommen, away from Cersei and Joffrey. He'd had so very little time with his children, and Jaime couldn't help but wonder if his father knew that as well.

"Uncle Jaime!" Tommen cried and all but flung himself at Jaime, who had to drop Sansa's hand to hold him, swinging him in his arms. No matter what he and Cersei had done, no matter how wrong and ill-conceived, Jaime loved his children.

"Tommen, you've grown since I last saw you."

Tommen laughed. "Uncle, it has only been three months since you and Aunt Sansa left King's Landing."

"Well still, you've added some height, I'm sure," Jaime said, choked with emotion.

He wondered what he might say to Sansa, to his wife, to somehow make this up to her. He was almost afraid to turn and face her when he heard her voice.

"Tommen, it is so nice to see you. I take it your journey here was good?" Sansa was asking Jaime's son.

Tommen turned shy and nodded and gave a small response, "It was, Lady Sansa," he said before Sansa reached for him, drawing him closer.

"Come now, Tommen, we are family," Sansa said, opening her arms.

Like a moth to a flame, he went, hugging her tightly as Sansa's eyes met Jaime's. What he saw there stunned him. No hated. No anger. No jealousy that this was a child of his. No, what Jaime saw there confirmed that Sansa was the best of anyone he'd ever met. He saw love and acceptance for his son in her eyes.

"Grandfather, let me bring my cat, Aunt Sansa. His name is Ser Pounce, and he's been exploring everywhere in the Castle since we arrived three nights past."

"Oh, that's lovely, Tommen. I once had a direwolf as a pet, and I loved her very much. It sounds like you love Ser Pounce."

Tommen's green eyes shone with his newfound love for Sansa. "Oh, I do, Aunt Sansa. Very much." Tommen lowered his voice and spoke, so only Jaime and Sansa could here. "And now that he is here, he is safe from Joffrey. He said the next time he found Ser Pounce in his quarters; he'd skin him alive!"

And just like that, Jaime's stomach twisted as he was brutally reminded, once again, what a monster Joffrey truly was.

Sansa cupped Tommen's cheek and stroked it softly. "Well, now he is safe and so are you. And I hope we can be friends, Tommen, as I've never been here, and I imagine I'll get quite lost on my daily travels through the Rock."

Tommen laughed and clasped Sansa's hand. "I'll help you, Aunt Sansa."

Jaime didn't even debate, but took Sansa's other hand, pulling her close and leaning down to whisper in her ear. "I will never be worthy of you and your generous heart, wife."

Sansa shook her head. She would never condone what Jaime and Cersei had done; it had resulted in so much tragedy. But she would also never take it out on an innocent child such as Tommen. She knew the boy needed love, craved it, and she had a willing and open heart.

Sansa could only squeeze Jaime's hand before they were descended upon by the other's.

As she had guessed, the overly made-up woman that was plump and short to Tywin's lean and agile frame was Genna Lannister. Not, Frey, the woman was sure to point out. She was dazzling in a gown of the deepest blue.

"I didn't know if you'd wear red or gold, and I thought if I did, you'd think I was competing with you. That last thing I need is an angry raven from Tywin berating me for somehow stealing your spotlight, Lady Sansa."

As she spoke, Genna's chubby fingers flashed in the sunlight, for every single one had a heavy ring of gold and diamonds. There were more baubles around her fat neck, competing with an impressive roll that lay against her massive bosom. When she came closer, her sweet perfume almost overwhelmed Sansa, and she had to turn her head to get a breath of fresh air.

Even though Jaime had spoken at length about his Aunt, Sansa had not been prepared for Genna Lannister. When she was done hugging Sansa, she stepped back and eyed her critically.

"Well, you are a pretty one, that's for sure. Ty says you're smart as well, but I'll be the judge of that. And fertile," Genna said as she laid a hand on Sansa's stomach, who could do nothing more than stand there and gape at the forward woman.

Sansa had never, in all her days, met someone as bold as Genna.

"Aunt," Jaime said, a warning in his voice.

"Oh, pish," she said, waving a hand at him. "You're old news, Jaime. Let me take the measure of the woman that finally tamed you. Lord knows it's taken long enough for you to settle down finally. You have no idea the fits and starts you gave your father, Jaime Lannister, by refusing to marry."

Jaime growled, and Genna scowled at him. "I'd imagine she is as skinny as a rail when she's not pregnant, but that hasn't affected her ability to be with child, if this stomach is anything to go by."

Sansa looked at Jaime who was fit to be tied, before she threw her head back and laughed.

"Oh gods, I think I like you," Sansa said to Genna. "I can't imagine you ever keeping a secret, and anyone would know you're coming as you're loud, and they could smell you with all that cloying perfume. But seven hells if I don't like someone that speaks to me honestly."

Genna's eyes narrowed on Sansa before she too started to laugh. "Oh, little wolf, I believe we'll get on just fine. I like a woman that knows her worth and has teeth.”

When Genna finally stepped back, Kevan stepped forward with a kindly looking woman who had the same look as her sister that Sansa had met at Sarsfield.

"Lady Sansa, I am pleased to introduce you to my wife, Lady Dorna," Kevan said. Sansa's heart ached for the woman, knowing that the Karstark's had killed her son Willem in retaliation for Jaime escaping, and she wondered if there might be some resentment from Dorna towards her. But the woman had kind eyes and hugged Sansa, welcoming heir to Casterly Rock.

The last person to make their introduction was Ser Daven Lannister, who had been left in charge of the Rock with Jaime, Tywin and Kevan away. The man's welcome to Jaime was warm and genuine, but his face soured when he looked upon Sansa.

"So it is true," he all but sneered at her. "A wolf thinks she can gain entrance to the Rock."

Sandor growled and stepped closer. "You'll shut your cunt mouth before I shut it for you," he snarled at the knight.

"Dog," Ser Daven spat, having no more use for Sandor than he did for Sansa. Daven had no idea what Jaime was thinking allowing them inside Casterly Rock.

"I am disappointed in you, cousin, that when you finally married, you would take one so unworthy."

"Enough, Ser Daven," Jaime said, his green eyes flashing. "Not another word about my wife, now or in the future. She is not her brother, and his victory against your father was well done. It is not Robb Stark, nor Sansa's fault that Ser Stafford was ill-prepared at Oxcross. The foolish man should have retreated to the Rock when he knew he had nothing more than squires and page boys to fight against a well-armed Northern force."

Daven snarled. "You defend them? It is worse than I thought," he said, shaking his head.

Jaime had enough. He looked at Sansa. "A moment, my love," loving how she smirked at him and stepped away from her. Her support in him meant everything. For so long, every action of Jaime’s had always been questioned. But Sansa trusted him to handle things the way he saw fit.

"Cousin, it is clear you have forgotten your place. While my father and I thank you for your loyal service to House Lannister, let us not forget who Casterly Rock belongs to," Jaime said, circling his cousin who had also drawn his steel.

"You mean to spar with me? Over her?" Daven said, incredulous.

Jaime shrugged. "You have shown my wife, whom I love and is pregnant with the next heir to Casterly Rock, no respect cousin."

"You love her?" Daven gaped at Jaime.

"I do. And she is now the mistress of this Castle, and you will respect her and do as she bids," Jaime said, and Daven shook his head.

"You ask too much, Jaime."

"I ask what you are sworn to give. Now kneel, cousin, and vow you will never harm Sansa, or face my steel," Jaime said, voice hard and implacable.

Sansa wondered if this were the best way to go about such business, but even she could see that Ser Daven had a hatred for her that bordered on unnatural. Sansa had to trust that Jaime knew what he was doing. Of course, both Arya and Tommen found it all quite exciting, while Kevan, Sandor and Addam watched the two men circle each other.

"It needs to be done, Lady Sansa," Kevan leaned in to tell her. "Ser Daven has sworn vengeance against your brother, and it would be easy for him to take it by harming you. Jaime needs to make sure that his loyalty is absolute."

"And if my husband kills his cousin on account of me, Ser Kevan? How am I to feel about that?" Sansa asked, her stomach roiling.

"Then know that Jaime will do anything to protect you, Sansa. He did not ask for this, but do not doubt that this is what needs to be done. Daven needs to learn his place."

And then all speaking ceased as swords clashed.

What became immediately apparent to all those watching was that Jaime Lannister, a man who was once the best swordsman in the realm, was equally proficient with his left hand as he had been with his right. Almost no one expected that, including Daven, and he grunted and panted as he tried to repel blow after blow that Jaime rained down on him. Jaime had always been better at Daven at swordplay, since they’d been children and had started with training swords and nothing had changed.

If anything, Jaime was ever more determined to prove his skill, making sure that every single person here today would know what he would do to defend his wife.

It was an almost clinical display of one who was superior to all others, and both Tommen and Arya practically bounced with glee at seeing Jaime fight.

"He's amazing, Sansa," Arya said, rubbing her hands together. "He said when we got to the Rock that he would spar with me, and I can't wait."

When Jaime finally had Daven on his knees, he pushed the tip of the blade into his cousin's neck, drawing a bead of blood.

"I love you, cousin, you know I do. But my wife is everything. You will swear your loyalty to her and that you will never harm her or her sister, here and now, or I will finish this and bury you beside your father that you are so desperate to avenge."

Daven's eyes were wide, and he looked at Jaime. They'd known each other since they were children; ran and played and sparred together. Daven had always been loyal to Tywin and his son, almost blindly so, and it pained him that his own actions had caused Jaime to such extremes. He'd read the raven from the Great Lion himself, extolling the virtues of Jaime's new bride and the fact that their marriage had brought peace to the warring houses. He knew all of this.

And yet, it ate at his very soul that a wolf was now loose in the Casterly Rock, and he did not trust himself not to dishonour his Lord.

"Banish me, Jaime, for the rage consumes me, as much as I know your wife is not responsible for my father's death," Daven said in an anguished whisper.

Jaime's head dropped for a moment before he nodded.

"Ser Daven, you are to leave Casterly Rock immediately. You will not return unless granted express permission from me alone. Should you do so, should you be caught anywhere on the grounds, your life is forfeit. Do you understand, Ser Daven?"

"Aye, I do."

"Go. Find the men from your house that are camped outside the Castle walls, and never return here cousin," Jaime said, pulling his sword away from Daven's neck. The man scrambled to his feet, gave Jaime and nod and then hurried from the courtyard, not meeting the eyes of anyone there.

"Addam, make sure he gets to where I want him to be," Jaime commanded, and Addam Marbrand nodded.

"Of course, Ser Jaime," the man responded. Jaime would take Daven when they marched on Highgarden. Perhaps the sack of House Tyrell's beloved seat would help cool the man's rage and give him perspective. Jaime hated to think that his cousin was lost to him.

Sansa was shocked by what had just happened. She felt a tremendous amount of guilt that Jaime had to banish a loyal family member because of her, and she was almost ill at the thought. As if knowing what she was thinking, Jaime was suddenly that, and she was in his arms.

"Do not, wife. Do not make this your fault. I always knew this would most likely be the outcome with Daven. His is hot-blooded, and his father's death too new for him to see rationally. I will not apologize for putting your safety above his need for vengeance, Sansa. Not ever," Jaime said, his voice low and thick and tight with a riot of emotion. His green eyes blazed, and she saw the conviction there.

Sansa nodded and cupped his cheek. "I trust you, Jaime. If this is what had to happen, then so be it."

Jaime rested his forehead against hers. He had hoped that the events that had just happened could have been avoided, but he'd always been prepared. Jaime needed his wife to know just how seriously he took her safety. Far too often in her life, others had put their own needs about her and Jaime would not be that man.

"Sansa, my love, my wife, my wolf," Jaime whispered as he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "You are everything to me."

Sansa tightened her grip on Jaime, knowing what this had just cost him, and yet understanding he'd do it a thousand times again if it meant she would be safe. It was the same for her, with her brother and her mother. Had Robb not seen reason, Sansa would have been forced to move against him.

Once again, it was Genna who broke the tension, clapping her hands.

"Well, that was unfortunate," she announced and then tutted as if she heartily disagreed with Ser Daven's actions. "Come now, let us get you settled," she announced to Sansa, Arya and Brynden.

On their journey here, the Blackfish had tried to say that he would stay with his men, outside the Castle, but Jaime had badgered him that the last thing he wanted to have to do was search the Blackfish out when he was needed at a strategy session. That had brightened her Uncle's eyes, to be included in the planning on the siege of Highgarden, and he'd agreed to take a room in the Rock.

"It's hardly a hardship," Jaime had muttered. "Stubborn old goat. It's the nicest Castle in the realm. The old boy probably won't even appreciate the luxury he's been afforded."

Sansa had snickered at Jaime's complaining, knowing that he secretly enjoyed matching wits with the Blackfish.

Now, as they walked, hand in hand, Sansa allowed the sheer magnificence of Casterly Rock to wash over her. She was stunned by the size, the luxury, the sheer scope of Jaime's home and she held on tighter as Genna walked them down massive arched hallways, through yet another impressive courtyard, down more stone steps than Sansa could count.

At one point, they bypassed an enormous room, so cavernous in size that Sansa wondered how long it might take to walk through it.

Genna merely waved a hand and said, "The Hall of Heroes. We'll spend some time there, dear, when you've acclimatized yourself to the Rock."

Then they were off again, through yet more hallways. Sansa had lost all sense of where she was, and Jaime leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"The family quarters are deep inside the belly of the Rock, Sansa. It is the safest place in the entire Keep, and even if the castle were breached, there are many safeguards in place before anyone could gain entry here." Jaime also knew there were secret passageways out of the family rooms, to get Sansa down to the Sunset Sea and away from here, should the worse thing happen and they were invaded.

Indeed when they approached the massive stone doors that allowed entrance to the apartments beyond, Sansa wondered how any could ever hope to breach such fortifications. Outside, the doors were no fewer than four Lannister guards, each of whom kept their face in a severe countenance.

Jaime tugged Sansa forward, Arya trailing just behind. He addressed the men, but Sansa only caught two of their names; Gerald and Leon.

"This is my wife, the new mistress of Casterly Rock," Jaime pronounced and Sansa had the presence of mind to give a small nod of her head. "You are to do as she bid, whatever she asks. No part of the castle will be off-limits to her."

All four men nodded.

Then Jaime indicated Arya, the Blackfish, Dacey and Sandor and made more introductions until it was clear the authority he was giving her.

When the doors finally opened, Sansa gasped at the corridor beyond. Somehow they had ended up against the Sunset Sea, and windows allow butter-yellow sunshine to illuminate the passage, which was covered in glass mosaics depicting the Lannister family history on one side.

Sansa ran her hand over the work, genuinely stunned at its beauty. Each stone had to have been handpicked to create such a masterpiece, and the work went on, along one side of the hallway, for as far as Sansa could see.

"Jaime, it's stunning," Sansa said.

Seeing the gentle smile of adoration on her husband's face, Sansa knew that he was pleased with her reaction to his home. And to think that such work had been done here, where so few would ever see the talent, Sansa was beginning to understand the Lannister mindset better and better. This was a castle without equal, of that Sansa was more than sure.

"Come, love. Let me show you to our brand new chambers," Jaime said, taking her hand and shooting his Aunt a look. "Genna, I take it you can see to the others," Jaime said, and his Aunt nodded. It was only then that Sansa noticed a secondary corridor with more steps leading deeper into the Rock.

"The Lord and Lady's chambers, along with several apartments for their children, are the only ones on this level. Other chambers for close family are one level below, but all are guarded through the entrance in which we came," Jaime explained, walking with Sansa down the sunlight corridor.

He paused when they came to a room with a pretty carved wooden door. He turned to Sansa, and she saw the war in his eyes.

"These rooms were my mother's, although she never used them. She preferred to be close to my father, even when he was not here. Still, he kept them for her, as was the tradition for the Lady of Casterly Rock." Jaime paused and swallowed hard. "I have given Tommen my old room, Sansa."

She nodded, taking his meaning. "And the rooms of your other siblings?"

She would not speak Cersei's name, not now, not here when they were on the verge of something new that was just theirs.

"I hope that we can get Myrcella home from Dorne. She might enjoy staying in her mother's old chambers. As for Tyrion's, I've kept his the same."

Sansa nodded. She couldn't undo the history of what had happened here, and definitely not what had transpired between Jaime and his twin. But her husband had worked hard to avoid anything that might be a trigger from that relationship, and for that, Sansa was grateful.

"Show me our chambers, Jaime."

Relieved, he grinned and kissed her softly. He handed her a golden key with a lion on it, of course, and then nodded for her to do the honours. Sansa slid the key inside and turned, and the locked door slid smoothly open.

For the second time in as many minutes, Sansa gasped when she opened the door.

Somehow the engineers that had built the Rock, centuries ago, had found a way to carve intricate stone archways that served as massive windows into the sheer rock wall that was the back of the magnificent Castle.

The entire western side of the room opened onto an enormous terrace, and Sansa realized that they had dug them into the stone wall so that there was an overhang, and the room itself sat back a ways to give the impression of more space.

Jaime grasped Sansa's hand, pulling her past the elegant sitting room, tables and giant fireplace and out onto the terrace.

"You need to be careful because too close to the edge, and it is straight down little wolf," Jaime said, grinning and tugging her closer.

Sansa gasped as she overlooked the very edge of the terrace and saw nothing but a sheer drop to rocks and sea below.

She took a single step back and then a smile broke out on her face as she saw the Sunset Sea for the first time, completely unimpeded.

"It is one of the best views in all the Rock. Legend is this terrace was built for the second Lady Lannister, who was beloved by her husband, as she complained about having to climb out from such gloomy quarters to main floors of the keep just to see the water and watch the sunset, so work began immediately. It took years, and they moved thousands of pounds of rocks, but before she passed, the second Lady Lannister was able to stand on her terrace and watch the sunset."

"Jaime, that is lovely," Sansa said, gasping as she saw the current sun low on the horizon. "Wait with me for a moment," she murmured, and Jaime pulled her into his arms, wrapping her snuggling in his embrace.

"I feel like I've waited my entire life to have such a view with my wife," he whispered into Sansa's ear, who allowed the tears to flow, unimpeded down her cheeks. She was not ashamed of what she felt for this man whose arms in which she stood.

Since the moment they had been back, everything had been so fraught and so dangerous. One wrong move and she could have ended up dead, or worse.

But somehow, against all the odds, here she and Jaime stood.

Sansa knew she was safe here, safer than she ever would have been in King's Landing or even Winterfell. She knew she could rest and prepare for the arrival of their children. She knew that she could make the people of the West love her, and she knew she could be a good person to Jaime's son Tommen.

"When will you leave?" Sansa asked quietly, as the sun sank lower towards the sea.

"Soon. We need to get you settled here, but we both know surprise will work in our favour if we want to move successfully against Highgarden."

Sansa nodded. She wanted it done. She wanted the power of the Tyrell's smashed once and for all, and for Joffrey to have no other options.

"I wish I could stay. I'd spoil you so much, Sansa. Extravagant gowns, beautiful jewels. I'd search our library for the best poems that I would read to you daily, as you reclined in our bed, and I’d feed you from my hand only. I'd stay and watch you grow our children, stronger every day until the moment came when they were set to arrive," Jaime whispered to her, and ache in his voice.

"And then?" Sansa asked, loving the picture he painted, never taking her eyes for the sun, that was casting orange and red and pink as far as the eye could see. Sansa had never seen such colours in nature before, and she knew she would never tire of this view. Every night she would stand here and watch the sunset and pray her husband returned to her.

"And then, my love, when your children were ready to enter this world, I would hold you as you brought them forth, never leaving your side," Jaime said, kissing the spot she loved right below her neck. "I vow to try to return for their births, Sansa, so you won't have to labour alone."

Sansa nodded, choked with emotion, as she clutched at Jaime's hand. "I know, my lion. I know."

They were quiet then, as the sun finally sank below the horizon, looking as if the sea had gobbled it up. When it was gone, Jaime turned her so he could gaze into her eyes. His one hand cupped her cheek, the golden one resting on her hip.

"I will return, Sansa. Know that," he told her, and she nodded.

"I know, Jaime. I trust in your skills and your plan. I know we need to make bold moves," Sansa said.

Jaime rested his forehead against hers.

"I will return, and then I will pamper you in ways that I haven't even dreamed up. But that is what shall occupy my mind as I ride for Highgarden. How to return to my Sansa and spoil her."

Sansa gave a soft laugh, knowing what Jaime was trying to do. She loved him all the more for it.

"And I will stay here, and make the people of the Rock love me, and prepare for our children, Jaime."

Both knew they had a few days more, to be together, but time alone would be scarce as preparations were made.

"I love you, Sansa, for all our days," Jaime said softly to her.

"And I love you, Jaime, for all our days."

It was enough for now. Sansa was finally at the Rock. Safe and secure and guarded by the best and most loyal people Jaime could find. He knew he needed to deal with Joffrey and Highgarden, and there would never be a better time than now.

Still, leaving Sansa would be the hardest thing he'd ever done.

They had grown impossibly close since their marriage just over four months ago in the North and years in the future. Where once only the possibility of a great love between them existed, it was now present and in full force. Whatever Jaime had felt for Cersei, paled in comparison to the way his heart cried out for Sansa.

His Sansa.

His love.

His wolf.

His wife.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sack of Highgarden

The road from Casterly Rock to the Reach was a scenic one, perhaps one of the most spectacular in all of Westeros. As a young boy, Jaime had travelled it more than once with his father, who was determined to show him the entire reaches of the Lannister empire. The way it skirted the Sunset Sea and death-defying cliffs usually had Jaime's heart racing. But these past few days, his mind had been wholly occupied with the woman he had left behind.

Sansa.

His wife.

At his family home.

He'd taken three precious days to try and acclimatize her to the Rock. Jaime knew that very few people in Westeros were used to a castle such as Casterly Rock. It wasn't arrogance speaking, just the truth. Jaime had been to Winterfell, twice. And nothing about Sansa's home compared to his. Again, that wasn't his arrogance or his ignorance. He knew his wife loved Winterfell, and Jaime could credit Bran the Builder with ingenuity when it came to ensuring a warm and functioning castle in such a dismal place. But it was battered and bruised.

The glass gardens had been destroyed, and the Bolton's had done serious damage to the libraries and Great Hall. It would take Robb Stark years and more gold than he most likely had to rebuild it to its former glory. Jaime made a mental note to send gold Robb's way, if and when he was back in control of the castle.

But for now, Jaime was focused on Sansa and her reactions to the Rock. She had been stunned when he'd taken her to the adjacent bathing chambers to their new rooms. They dwarfed those of anything in King's Landing, even those used by the King and the Hand. The fact that there were several large bathing pools, each with hot water on demand, made his wife clap her hands in glee.

Jaime had arranged for all manner of soaps and oils and fragrances to line the shelves that had been carved into the rock grotto that served at the bathing chambers. There was also a larger pool, the water lukewarm where Jaime knew his father often swam, and one small pool that was as hot as the natural springs in Winterfell and could be used to soak away aches and pains. Sansa had promised Jaime that she would make excellent use of the bathing suite and had a glimmer in her eyes when she said that even Arya wouldn't be able to say no to this.

They'd dined alone that first night, servants bringing in their food to their rooms, and Jaime had watched, relieved as Sansa had eaten everything put in front of her. When their supper was done, he'd opened a closet where several gowns hung, ready for her use.

"I took the liberty of writing ahead for Genna to get started on some for you. It's warmer here, on the West coast, and with your pregnancy, I was unsure how many of your gowns from King's Landing would still fit."

Sansa thanked him profusely, running her hands over the beautiful dresses, a wistful sigh on her lips.

"You spoil me, husband," she told him.

Jaime had grinned and grabbed her hand, eager to show her everything else he had arranged. Shoes, slippers, boots, a riding habit and sleep gowns. Then he turned and showed her what he was most proud of.

It was a unique table that had been his mother, there was a sizeable reflective glass mirror, one of the only of its kind in Westeros. Tywin had it imported from Essos for Joanna, and now it was Sansa's.

"My mother often sat in front of this mirror and got ready for her day," Jaime explained. "I asked my father if I could have it moved into our rooms, and he agreed."

Sansa was deeply touched by Jaime's consideration for her happiness when he opened the top drawer. "There is more, my love."

Sansa gasped, and her hand went to her mouth when she looked down to see the jewelled necklaces, bracelets, earnings and hairpieces contained in the drawer.

"I told you in King's Landing that I had thought my father had melted my mother's jewelry down. But when he showed up with her favourite necklace, I knew he must have kept it all. He knew what I was asking for when I asked for her desk."

Sansa met Jaime's eyes in the mirror. "But surely some of this should be Cersei's?" she asked.

Jaime shrugged. "My father has her jewels our entire life and has never given her a single piece."

Sansa shook her head in wonder and tentatively reached out to touch a necklace that drew her attention.

"Ahhh, yes. The Lannister ruby," Jaime said, winking at her as his left hand deftly snatched up the stunning necklace. He draped it around her neck, the paleness of her throat offsetting a ruby as big as a baby's fist.

"Jaime, you can't," Sansa said, protesting.

Jaime nuzzled her neck. "You are the mistress of Casterly Rock, the next Lady Lannister. By all rights of our house, this necklace now belongs to you, Sansa."

She shook her head, hardly able to imagine owning something so valuable. Jaime worked the latch so that it was secured around her throat and then pulled her to her feet, bringing her to their bedchambers.

"Everything in here is new, for us, Sansa," he said, as she ran her hand down the ornately carved bed that occupied the middle of the room. It was massive in size and piled high with pillows and blankets. Even in the West, when the sunset, the castles had a chill, and a fire blazed in their hearth.

"I can imagine you and me here, with our children, my love. Nothing more to do than be lazy one morning," Jaime said as he stripped them of their clothes.

Sansa did not attempt to hide her naked form from her husband. He knew every part of her; every scar, every mark and every peak and valley.

Jaime dropped to his knees and cradled her stomach, speaking directly to it.

"And you, little lions and wolves. I wonder, will you have your mother's brilliant hair and mind? Will you be funny and quick, like me? Will you love it here, or long for snow?" Jaime pressed a gentle kiss to her stomach, just as the babies rolled, and Sansa felt the distinct kick of a tiny foot.

"Jaime!" she gasped in wonder, pulling his one hand to the side where he could feel them move, gazing up at her, wonder on his face.

That night he made love to her slowly, reverently, capturing every loving cry in his mouth and returning it until they dropped into a peaceful slumber. As promised, the waves outside their room lulled Sansa to sleep.

"It's her, isn't it," came a resentful voice, drawing Jaime from his pleasant memories and into the cold hard present. He looked over to see Daven beside him, a look of betrayal and disgust on his face.

"It's who?" Jaime asked, playing dumb.

"Your wife. Your traitorous wolf wife," Daven said, spitting on the ground.

Jaime arched an eyebrow at his cousin's display.

"Tell me, cousin, what was I to say to my father when he insisted, we marry? Was I to run away? Refuse the Great Lion? Was I to say no to ending a war? To saving lives?"

Daven shook his head, contemplating the question.

"It's not your marriage Jaime. I understand you had no choice. It's the fact that you've gone and fallen in love with her. You gave her the Rock cousin. For all we know, she's sending for her brother at this very moment!" Daven said, anger lacing every word.

Jaime shrugged. "I do love her cousin, more than I ever thought possible and I'll not apologize or explain my feelings to you when your anger is up."

"More than you loved Cersei?"

Daven knew he'd immediately gone too far, as Jaime's hand reach out, fast as ever and grabbed the reins of his horse, pulling them both to a jarring stop.

"What did you say, cousin?" Jaime asked, voice deceptively low, eyes narrowed.

Daven notched up his chin. "I asked if you love your wolf wife more than you love your twin?"

Jaime gazed upon Daven's face. "You knew about us?"

Daven nodded. "Of course."

"Who else?"

His cousin shrugged. "I can't say. Not many, I suspect. Perhaps Genna. Maybe Kevan. Addam. Most didn't, Jaime."

Jaime let the reigns go, and both men continued on their way, the silence stretching between them. Jaime's mind was in turmoil. He hadn't realized how widespread his and Cersei's secret was.

"You don't understand what it was like, Jaime when you refused to wed. No one here knew what might happen to the Rock, to House Lannister, to everything we love if the Great Lion were to die."

Jaime felt his stomach roil. He'd always assumed his father's insistence at him marrying was due to the Great Lion being obsessed with continuing his lineage. But Jaime could see, had seen, as they had travelled through the West that there had been something missing here with him not taking his rightful place. The people in the Westerlands were loyal, to a fault, perhaps, to House Lannister, and they had waited patiently for him to take up the mantle of the rule that his birth demanded. Like a petulant child, Jaime had refused, again and again. Because of Cersei. Because of their sick and twisted relationship. He'd hurt more than just his father by refusing his rightful place; he'd hurt the entirety of the West and the people who swore their allegiance to them.

He felt ill.

Daven must have seen something on his face, for he gentled his tone.

"Is she really the woman you love, cousin? How can you trust her? How do you know she is not a spy?"

Jaime's ashen face shook. "She is not. She is… cousin, if you knew what she has been through, what she has survived. So much hate and horror and torture. And yet, she is good. So good. So loving."

"Does she know?"

"About Cersei?"

Daven nodded.

Jaime met his cousin's eyes, and Daven almost reared back and the sheer emotion pouring off Jaime. "She knows all my secrets, all my dirty deeds. She knows my greatest shame and my greatest lies. She knows everything, Daven, and yet she still loves me."

Daven was stunned. He would have assumed Jaime would have kept everything ugly from his wife. But apparently not.

"What do you mean, your greatest lie?"

Daven had heard the rumour about why Jaime had killed the Mad King. He's rejoiced, knowing his cousin had been a good man, and here was the proof. He had expected that when Jaime had come home, they would sit down and discuss it, but then everything had gone so horribly wrong.

"Is what they are saying true? Did you kill him to save the people of King's Landing?"

"Yes," Jaime said.

"And he ordered you to kill your father?" Daven asked, truly horrified at the thought.

"Yes."

Daven shook his head, sick at the thought.

"Why didn't you tell anyone, cousin?"

Jaime shook his head, once again lost in those long-ago memories.

"Everything happened so fast. Ned Stark was there, calling me a Kingslayer. Then Robert and my father. Before I knew it, Cersei and Robert were to be married, and she was sobbing that I couldn't leave her with such a monster. She begged that I stayed on as a Kingsguard." Jaime shrugged. "At the time, I loved her, so much, Daven, I could see no other pathway. I was desperate to remain by her side, and my father was livid. I wouldn't give up my white cloak."

Daven wanted to be sick for his cousin and everything he'd been through.

"And Lady Sansa? She knows all of this?"

Jaime's entire face transformed when Daven asked about his wife. "She does. I have no idea what I have done to have her love but have it I do," Jaime said, smiling as he thought of his wife.

Daven could see the shame in his actions now. It was clear that Jaime loved his wife and Daven of all people should have been there to welcome her to their home and vow to protect her. Instead, he'd made his cousin banish him from the Rock. And all because he, Daven Lannister, hadn't approved of Jaime's wife.

"I'm sorry," he choked out, drawing Jaime's attention back to him.

“For what?” Jaime asked, his own brain such a muddle he couldn’t make sense of his cousin’s turmoil. He felt anchorless here, without Sansa.

“For my hatred towards your wife,” Daven said, his voice a tortured whisper.

Jaime sighed. Things felt so fraught and taunt with a man he had been so close to, and Jaime hated it. Still, Daven had done a great dishonour to Sansa.

“Prove to me your loyalty cousin. Survive these upcoming wars and when we return to the Rock, you can swear your loyalty to my wife and beg her forgiveness.”

Daven had nodded, unable to say or do more.

It took another ten days, Jaime pushing his army fast and hard, before they reached Crakehall, on the Ocean Road. They were welcomed warmly, both Jaime and Daven have squired here when they had been boys, but couldn’t linger. A raven from Tywin was handed to Jaime immediately upon his entry to the castle, and he could feel the tension radiating from his father’s words. The Tyrell army was set to arrive in King’s Landing any day, and though no wedding date had yet been set, Jaime knew it was only a matter of time. Olenna had played her hand and she wanted the Iron Throne, no matter Joffrey’s reputation.

This was the furthest reaches of the Westerlands, and the moment they turned inward and made for Highgarden they would need to pass by Old Oak seat of House Oakheart.

Jaime served with Arys Oakheart in Robert’s Kingsguard. The man was mostly an upstanding guard, and Jaime knew he was currently with Myrcella in Dorne, leaving his mother, Arwyn, a delicate woman, in charge of the castle. If Highgarden had called their banners as Tywin had indicated, then Old Oak would be mostly empty. House Oakheart was loyal to House Tyrell, having followed Lord Mace Tyrell in raising their banners for Renly Baratheon and not backing Stannis when Renly was dead.

Jaime meant to bypass Old Oak altogether. He didn’t need to conquer the Reach; just take Highgarden and force a surrender by the Tyrell’s from their house seat. His driving need to break House Tyrell was very personal and thankfully aligned with his political goals.

As they raced further south, down the Ocean Road, Jaime thought long and hard about who might replace House Tyrell. He knew that a strong and loyal house was needed in the Reach. The region had emerged from the conflicts in their previous time relatively unscathed, short of Cersei blowing up the Sept of Baelor and killing Olenna’s grandchildren. But by and large, it was a region that could have dominated others had they made just a few wiser choices.

Jaime would not allow that to happen this time. Both Hightower and Redwyne had strong navies, which he currently did not. That was a problem with the Iron Born still a problem, House Manderly in the North commanding a sizeable fleet and Stannis still the best naval commander in Westeros.

“The speed you march us through the Reach is practically unheard of,” the Blackfish grumbled to Jaime one evening when he was standing in his tent, pouring over his maps.

Jaime barely glanced up at the man. They were in the south now. The weather was fair, food was plentiful and there was hardly anything to slow them down, like mud or any people.

“It is utter foolishness that she called her banners and left herself so vulnerable,” Jaime muttered, looking at the Reach, the West and King’s Landing.

Brynden glanced down at the map, noting that Jaime had moved the Tully fish and the Lannister Lion to just outside Oakheart, while the falcon was poised at Harrenhal. Jaime also had a lion just past Deep Den. Five thousand Lannister men had taken the Gold Road to King’s Landing and waited there. Jaime would not leave Casterly Rock defenceless. Brynden had to give the Kingslayer his due; he was taking this sacking of Highgarden and Sansa’s safety seriously.

“Any word from Royce?”

Jaime nodded towards a raven that he had just received. In it, Royce had routed the few remaining Bolton men at the ruined castle and had taken it back. Technically it was in the Riverlands, but no one was complaining. Jaime sent one back, thanking him, telling him where they were, and asking if he found a man named Qyburn to send him to the Rock. Jaime meant to build scorpions there. He’d not be vulnerable to the Dragon Queen; not this time.

As it stood, Jaime now commanded men loyal to him on the King’s Road under Royce at Harrenhal, a Lannister force at Deep Den on the Gold Road, and the majority of his forces, here, on the Ocean Road.

The man from House Tully knew that Jaime Lannister had never been more powerful.

“And what does the King think of all of this?” the Blackfish asked.

Jaime snorted. “I have no doubts my father, as Hand, is feeding him whatever information he deems most pertinent.” Jaime paused. “Joffrey isn’t exactly a deep thinker.”

Brynden grunted.

“And if Olenna finds out? What then?”

Jaime stepped back from the map, knowing it held no answers. He met the Blackfish’s face.

“It is a risk. All of this is a risk. While Joffrey and Margaery are not formally wed, yet, they are betrothed. Marching against Highgarden could be considered treason. You know this.”

Brynden nodded. “I do.”

“It is why I needed to get Sansa to the Rock. Even if we were to fail, which I have no intention of failing, she will be safe. Joffrey could raise a thousand armies and throw them against my house seat, and he would not breach those walls. There is no army to raise. Dorne could barely muster ten thousand men if they would heed a call from the King. I have the North. And Stannis would slit Joff’s throat before he’d ever come to his aid.”

The Blackfish snorted and made a gesture for Jaime to continue. “And what if he buys an army?” Jaime thought of his sister bringing the Golden Company to Westeros to face Dany.

The Golden Lion smiled and there was nothing warm in it. “As you may or may not know, there are some in the Capital that think that the gold in the Rock has dried up; that House Lannister is owed almost three million gold dragons from the Crown and needs that money.”

“And are you?”

“Oh, we are owed the gold dragons, for that there is no doubt. Petyr Baelish was a spectacularly bad Master of Coin. I half suspect my father has already seized all his assets and paid our House back accordingly. But we are not quite the paupers that my father would have people think.”

The Blackfish nodded. He’d seen the buckets of gold that Jaime had given out from the Tooth to every house and village along the way. The lions were as powerful as ever in the West, and he knew that the Tully’s needed this alliance. This was the future of Westeros, whether Bryden liked it or not.

“As it is, the Crown is broke, other than loans potentially now from Highgarden. We will seize all of Highgarden’s assets, leaving the King no gold to buy an army, Blackfish.”

“And if they take the Capital?”

Jaime grimaced and looked to King’s Landing. “Joffrey has relied heavily on both Cersei and my father in his short reign. My father has ten thousand Lannister men still with him there. It is unlikely he would go against them, even with the roses whispering in his ear.”

Bryden stood and moved the Rose to the Stag in King’s Landing. “But what man wouldn’t make a fool of himself for a woman, Kingslayer?”

With that last comment, the Blackfish left Jaime to his thoughts, a sick and twisty feeling in his stomach.

Jaime was not doing this alone. He knew he had his father’s support. He knew that Tywin wanted to seat him and Sansa on the Iron Throne. But it was not without risk and the greatest one Jaime could see was to his family left behind with Joffrey in the Capital.

As they neared Oakheart, Jaime realized that it would be impossible to miss a massive army that marched past their castle, and Jaime sent a parlay to speak with Lady Arwyn Oakheart. She appeared as Lannister and Tully forces pushed deeper into the Reach, a woman with a pinched look on her face when she observed Jaime, Kevan, Daven and Brynden.

“This is treason,” she all but vibrated on her seat.

Jaime shrugged. “Who is Hand to the King, My Lady?”

The woman titled her chin. “And who is set to marry said King, Ser Jaime?”

“Not married yet, though. It is curious how Lady Olenna believes her daughter needed the entire Reach at her disposal in King’s Landing. Why is that, Lady Oakheart?”

The woman sniffed. “I do not question those I have sworn loyalty to Ser Jaime. Do not ask me to betray them, for I will not.”

Jaime nodded. “I will not ask for your loyalty or for your betrayal My Lady. Only your silence.”

The woman said nothing, just glaring at him.

“You Liege Lord should have allowed you to defend your borders, Lady Oakheart. She had to know that the Lions would pounce when the Reach emptied. And yet, she left you, here, on the border with House Lannister with less than a thousand men.”

Jaime could see Lady Arwyn struggle to defend the actions of House Tyrell. He could hardly blame her. In her position, he’d be outraged.

“In order to guarantee your silence, you will welcome a regiment of my men into your castle. Do this, and House Lannister will remember your sacrifices.”

“And if I say no?”

Jaime wanted to heave out a sigh. Instead, he simply gazed at the impressive host that he had at his back. “Then we will destroy Oakheart. Make no mistake, My Lady, your castle is great, but I know you are not prepared for a siege.”

It was a sad but true fact. The people of the Reach had been the most unaffected by war, and thus were not prepared to defend themselves. No one had thought that the Lannisters would draw into an alliance with Houses Tully or Stark, and therefore no one thought that the Lions would march through the Riverlands and Westerlands and come down on top of the Reach with a host that could smash anyone who was left behind. They’d left themselves utterly vulnerable, and while they may be able to hold out for a month or two, Jaime’s army would break them.

“You have my word, Kingslayer,” Lady Oakheart said and turned, racing back to her castle. Jaime sent a hundred men inside her castle to make sure that no raven went to House Tyrell in the Capital to warn them of Jaime’s plan.

It was another two weeks before they finally came to the rolling hills and fertile fields that surrounded Highgarden, the mighty Mander river their last barrier to their prize. But even that had been left relatively unguarded and Jaime’s host crossed it easily, setting up camp at the foot of the pretty castle.

Jaime shuddered as he rode through the lands that surrounded Highgarden, recalling the last time he’d been here; what he’d learned, what he had witnessed. What he had almost done, had Bronn not stopped him.

Of course today, there was no loot train, no Olenna sitting high in one of Highgarden’s towers, and no dragon to scorch the earth. Today there was just a beautiful white castle, surrounded by three curtain walls, and a paltry army to defend it. It was madness, that lust for the crown had led Olenna and Mace to make such a choice.

Jaime knew that Willas was inside those walls. He had no issue with the heir to Highgarden, other than the fact that the man’s grandmother wanted his wife dead and the Throne for herself. Jaime knew that the Tyrell army was strong; they were a fertile bunch, these roses and at the height of their power, they could have called fifty thousand men to their banners.

They’d lost some, in the battle for King’s Landing and Jaime knew that there were houses in the Reach that resented House Tyrell taking the spot they had; betraying house Gardner and being named Lord Paramount here.

Florents.

Rowans.

Oakhearts.

All felt they had a claim to Highgarden. All resented the Tyrells. But none of them could be trusted and each had marched towards King’s Landing with the Tyrell forces.

It wasn’t surprising who Olenna had left behind to guard Highgarden if the raven in Jaime’s hand was any indication. Baelor Hightower wanted a parlay with him. Baelor’s sister was married to Mace; he was Uncle to Margaery and a man with his own powerful seat he’d inherit one day.

Jaime knew that the Hightowers were rich; almost as wealthy as his house. And they were fantastic naval commanders – at least Baelor was. Last Jaime had heard the man was building ships at Old Town as fast at Tywin had ordered them built-in Lannisport.

He wondered what price Baelor he could negotiate from the heir to Oldtown to seat him in Highgarden.

The man was handsome, Jaime had to give him that, as Baelor Hightower, entered his tent, although his name was most unfortunate. Imagine having farted once in the presence of Elia Martell and be saddled with the moniker Baelor Breakwind for all time.

Jaime preferred Kingslayer, he was vain enough to admit.

Jaime was lounging in an ornate chair, gold and carved with a lion, his golden armour polished to a shine. He was surrounded by men loyal to him; Kevan, Addam, Daven and the Blackfish. Never had he embodied a Lannister as much as he did now. He was utterly secure in his position. Not cocky, not arrogant. Just comfortable in the knowledge that his wife and his heirs were safe at the Rock, they had gold for decades and that the stores there would keep Sansa and his people safe for years should they be attacked.

Now as Jaime gazed at Baelor, he decided he would hear the man out, what his offer was to betray his sworn house, and then decide if it was worth his while. Even though House Hightower was powerful in their own right, Jaime’s scouts had reported they barely had enough men to hold Highgarden.

And what no one knew, no one but Sansa, was that Jaime had taken Highgarden recently. He knew all its secrets and he’d smash through the walls within days. Baelor wouldn’t survive such a sacking, and Jaime knew more than anything, the will to live prevailed.

“Kingslayer,” Baelor snarled.

“Breakwind,” Jaime retorted with a smirk.

Then man scowled.

“Let’s not mince words. We both know that you want Highgarden. I suspect your father is planning to force Lady Olenna’s hand when it comes to the Iron Throne.”

Jaime said nothing. “You were left here, to guard the seat of the Reach, I’m guessing because of your sister and her marriage to Mace.”

Baelor grunted.

Jaime picked at his nails, projecting an air of boredom. “You know, I should tell you that you are correct. That the reason I want Highgarden is to wrest power back from Olenna and her scheming granddaughter; your niece if I’m not mistaken.”

Baelor stiffened.

Jaime shrugged, his green eyes narrowing. “But that is not why I want Highgarden, Ser Baelor.”

Jaime rose, leonine grace and barely leashed fury now fully on display. There was a fire in his eyes; a passion there that few had ever seen and it made him all the more dangerous.

“Lady Olenna and Margaery tried to poison my wife, Baelor- at our wedding feast. My wife, whom you might have heard, I love beyond all reason.”

Jaime watched as the man swallowed hard. So, Olenna did not tell the houses that had sworn loyalty to her why she’d angered the lions.

_Interesting,_ Jaime thought. He wondered what others in the Reach might think if they were to know what Olenna’s rash actions had wrought?

The man from Oldtown felt his bowels clench. Word had spread throughout the Kingdom of the love match between Jaime Lannister and Sansa Stark. If what Jaime said was true, and he marched on Highgarden, not because of strategy, but to avenge his wife, Baelor knew everyone in the Reach was fucked. The Golden Lion would tear their region apart, brick by brick, field by field, home by home. With the majority of the Tyrell forces occupied at the Capital, the lions would feast.

There was no one to come to their aid. The Stormlands were decimated; a mess that would take years to sort out. Doran sat in Sunspear, content to have the other six kingdoms tear themselves apart. The Riverlands, who might have been an ally, had clearly chosen their side if the Blackfish smirking at Baelor was any indication, and the North was married to the West.

“I’ll give you, Highgarden, Ser Jaime.”

“For what?”

Baelor’s eyes widened and Jaime’s cruel laughter was not one that made the man feel confident in his position.

“I know Highgarden’s secrets, Ser Baelor. If you stand in my way, you and your men, it might take me slightly longer to take the Castle, but take it I will. Then all you’ll be is dead. I don’t need you to ‘give’ it to me when I can simply take it. So make it worth my while. What can Hightower give the Lannisters?”

“Twenty ships!” the man said, almost desperately.

“A hundred.”

“That is our entire fleet!” the man roared.

“Seventy-five ships. And a hundred thousand gold dragons; fifty thousand to be delivered to Riverrun immediately.”

The Blackfish sputtered out a cough, trying to hide his surprise.

Baelor blanched. “Fifty, Ser Jaime. I beg of you; do not leave us vulnerable to the Iron Born or Redwyne.”

Jaime’s mouth tightened. He hated the Greyjoy’s and knew they needed to deal with them. They had humiliated his house. And the Redwyne navy was the largest force in Westeros. Jaime wanted them crippled. It would be the ultimate payback to Olenna, to take the might of her house.

Jaime nodded. “Fine.” He needed ships and needed them now.

“My sister lives, Kingslayer. I’ll send her home, to our father.” Jaime could see the affection the man held for his family members.

Jaime nodded. “Fine but I get Willas. He comes with me.”

Baelor nodded.

“How many men do you have here, with you?”

“Five thousand.”

“You will keep a thousand men here and the rest come with me as we march on King’s Landing.”

When Baelor went to protest, Jaime shook his head. “I won’t have an army at my back, Ser Baelor. You and your men march with me, or we settle this with steel right now at Hightower. Dead men cannot stab me from behind.”

Baelor nodded his head, jerkily. “Fine. My sister is set to leave for the capital in a few days, for the marriage of her daughter to the King.”

Jaime jerked his head at that. “The wedding? A date has been announced.”

Baelor shook his head. “Not yet, but soon, Ser Jaime.”

With that settled, Baelor exited the tent. Within days the Lannister’s would be in charge of the seat of the Reach, and with so little bloodshed it was astonishing.

“I always knew the Hightowers preferred trade to warfare, but that was ridiculous,” the Blackfish spat, thoroughly unimpressed with the display that had just happened.

Jaime laughed at him, clapping him on the back. “They are rich, influential, procreate like mad and sense an opportunity, Uncle. That is how the game of thrones works.”

Brynden shook his head, preferring to settle his battles with his sword and warfare, to this.

“Do you think he’ll keep his word, Jaime?” Kevan asked, wishing Tywin had been able to see his son in action. He would have been proud. Jaime was everything Tywin had ever wanted him to be. If what he negotiated came to pass, he’d single handily just rebuilt the Lannister fleet, a sore spot for all lions.

“I do, Uncle. He knows he does not have the men to keep Highgarden, and as rich and as well-positioned as the Hightowers are, if the Tyrells were to be deposed, they’d be fourth when it came to houses to replace them in the Reach.”

“But won’t they be too powerful?” Addam asked, clearly worried.

Jaime nodded, listening to the concerns those closest to him had. It was a technique he’d often observed in his wife. She allowed those around her to speak openly and she took their words in, responding appropriately. It was far more effective than summarily dismissing everyone who was supposed to give you counsel as Cersei and Joffrey often did.

“It is a legitimate concern, Ser Addam and one I share. The fifty ships will bolster the Lannister navy greatly and I mean to take the Redwyne fleet as well.”

Everyone looked almost giddy at that thought. The Redwyne fleet was the largest in Westeros. If Jaime could take it, it would make House Lannister as strong as they had ever been.

“It is the very least that Lady Olenna owes me for trying to kill my wife,” Jaime said, voice sure with deadly intent.

He had no plans on leaving anyone in the Tyrell-Redwyne family alive and in a position to come after his family. He already knew a tragic accident would befall Baelor’s sister on her way home to Old Town, and no matter that Willas had nothing to do with Olenna’s plots, he could not be allowed to live.

Almost no one had seen Jaime with such a fire in his eyes and they knew it came down to him protecting his wife and their children.

Jaime Lannister, a man most felt would never live up to his father’s fearsome reputation, was smashing through every doubt that people had of him.

He looked remarkably like a young Tywin when he finally marched through Highgarden’s Great Hall and put Willas under his ‘care’ declaring that they would both ride for King’s Landing together.

“For the wedding, you see,” Jaime said, his smile cold and hard.

That evening, when he was back in his tent, he laboured over his ravens, missing Sansa more than ever. He wished she were here, by his side. She was his anchor in all things and knew her logic and brilliance was always welcome. It had been a month since he’d left the Rock and even though he’d accomplished what he’d set to do, it was bittersweet with his wife so far away.

_Sansa_

_It is done. Highgarden is in Lannister hands, although there was some help from Oldtown on the matter._

_I miss you, wife. I miss your laughter and your smiles, how you say my name, either when I exasperate you, or when I make you blush. _

_I miss sleeping with you and feeling our children move. _

Jaime paused, wishing he could add more. He wanted her reassurances that he wasn’t been too harsh; that his demands on the Hightowers had been adequate, that he hadn’t been making a mistake to promise them Highgarden. The opportunity to bolster the Lannister fleet had been too tantalizing to pass up.

But what if Addam was correct? What if he was making a huge mistake in giving them Highgarden? Jaime just didn’t know, and he had relied on his wife for so much, it felt like when he’d first lost his hand, to not have her here, with him.

Jaime pushed back from his desk, frustration gnawing at him. He needed his wife here. His brilliant wife who would guide him, tell him he was making the right choice. His wife who understood the game better than he ever had. But he knew should his raven fall into enemy hands, his raven needed to be as circumspect as possible.

He sighed and dipped his quill back into the pot of ink.

_Look for shipments of goods and gold from Highgarden, as well as fifty ships from Oldtown as part of the sacking of Highgarden. I trust them to your competent care. Fifty-thousand gold dragons are going to the Riverlands from Hightower, another fifty to House Lannister. Perhaps, once Robb is back in Winterfell, some should go North, to rebuild. _

_I miss you, wolf wife, and my love for you only grows, even though I move further away from you._

_Yours always, _

_For all our days,_

_Jaime_

When he was finished with that one, Jaime sealed it with the Lannister lion and gave it to his steward. Then he called for his Uncle Kevan and they composed two more.

The first was to Tywin, and it was short and to the point. They had Highgarden, fifty new ships for the Lannister navy, another hundred thousand gold dragons and a deal with the Hightowers.

The next was more complicated, as Jaime wrote a raven to the King; his son. His mad, vicious, cruel son. He knew it had to be done, and yet the words stuck in his throat.

_King Joffrey,_

_As your loyal subjects, House Lannister was gravely concerned with the news that Highgarden had emptied and marched on King’s Landing. Fearing for your safety, and an imminent attack on the Capital, we have seized Highgarden in your name, Your Grace. We now hold the seat of House Tyrell in the Reach, as well as an alliance with Houses Stark, Tully and Arryn. _

_Please know that it is most distressing to hear about the host marching towards the Capital, and we anxiously await word on your next orders, Your Grace. _

_Should you require our assistance, the combined forces of our alliance will march to your aid immediately, ridding the world of House Tyrell’s grave treason against you. _

_Your loyal subject, always,_

_Ser Jaime Lannister_

Jaime knew it was a jape. He knew his son would see right through the words that he had written. Everyone knew that a marriage between Houses Tyrell and Baratheon was set to take place any day now.

But Jaime also knew how the game was played. Joffrey would be forced with this raven to either declare that Houses Lannister, Stark, Tully and Arryn were in open rebellion against the Crown, or call off his wedding the Margaery Tyrell.

House Tyrell would have nowhere to go, should Joff do the later. Highgarden was gone. The road North was no longer an option, with Royce holding Harrenhal and the Lannister’s holding the Twins. The Gold Road? More Lannister men. That left them southeast into the Stormlands where Mace Tyrell was despised, despite his earlier alliance with Renly Baratheon.

Or to turn and battle Jaime’s army.

Jaime knew he had them pinned and as he watched the ravens take flight, he wondered what choices those in the Capital would make.

As they rode away from Highgarden, another two thousand Lannister and Tully men staying to keep watch over Highgarden, Jaime contemplated the path before him. He’d taken this road before, marching back to the capital with trains of gold and loot from Highgarden. This time he’d sent that bounty west, to the Rock for Sansa.

Baelor had barely reacted, uncaring in a way since his own family’s wealth was so vast.

Willas was ensconced in a carriage, guarded constantly but otherwise unmolested.

Baelor’s sister, Alerie had put up more of a fight, and Baelor had snarled that her own chance to live was to flee home to their father.

When she had asked where Baelor would go, Jaime said with him.

“You need to be part of this, Ser Baelor. You’ve made your choice.”

Jaime had been unmovable on that account and so his retinue grew, even as he left loyal men behind at Oakheart and now Highgarden.

It would take three weeks to march to King’s Landing.

The first week, Jaime received a raven from Royce, who sadly reported that Lady Brienne of Tarth had been found, dead at Harrenhal. Or at least what was left of her. Jaime had mourned her death but knew he had been helpless to stop it. Some otherworldly force had compelled him back to a time when they had been parted. Royce also indicated that Qyburn was on his way to Casterly Rock, grateful to be spared.

Royce was also calling his banners and marching down the King’s Road, although he was much closer and wanted to time his arrival to match Jaime’s.

The raven from Sansa arrived three days after the one from Royce. Her words buoyed Jaime’s spirits. She praised his takeover of Highgarden; already word had spread how the Lannister’s had taken the Reach with hardly a drop of blood spilled.

She told Jaime she’d be prepared for what he sent back her way. Her raven was long. She wrote of time spent with Tommen and his beloved cat, long afternoons with Genna and Dorna, and that her sister continued to train and spar with Dacey and Sandor.

When she spoke of how she missed him, in their bed, in her arms, in the baths, Jaime’s chest physically ached. He wanted to be with her, not here, not going further and further away from her. It felt wrong and he had to force himself to push ever more eastward instead of rushing back to her in the West.

It was when they were a week from the Capital when Jaime received a raven that would change everything. He’d been a mopey bastard for the past two weeks as they’d left Highgarden and must have read and re-read Sansa’s raven a thousand times.

The raven that was handed to him that night had the seal of the King and Jaime’s stomach dropped. He called for Kevan, Brynden, Baelor, Addam and Daven.

They would have their answer as soon as he opened it.

Was their army going to war against the King of the seven kingdoms, or just House Tyrell?

When they were there, tense and gathered around, Jaime slit the wax and unfurled the parchment.

_Kingslayer,_

_Imagine my shock when I received your raven. I realized instantly that I had been betrayed by my allies; by my mother’s own house. You are not loyal subjects, but traitors against the Crown who seek the Iron Throne for yourselves. _

_Although it pains me greatly, I must inform you that Tywin of House Lannister has been removed as Hand of the King, placed under arrest for treason and thrown in the black cells. His trial will begin once we have wrung all the information of your traitorous deeds from his lips._

Jaime’s face was ashen. He’d never thought Joffrey would be so bold as to arrest his father. No one had ever dared; not even Aerys. It seemed Joffrey thought himself more powerful than the Great Lion. 

_Further, the dwarf and my mother have been locked in their rooms, awaiting a trial that will commence at a time of my choice unless you, Jaime Lannister, disband your army, present yourself before me, and acknowledge your actions as treason before your King. Your death will secure the freedom of my mother. _

_Do not, and you are in open rebellion against the Crown and will be at war with my army. I will take everything from you, Ser Jaime. Your father, your brother, your twin, your lovely wife. _

_From here, I can almost hear Grandfather’s screams. _

_King Joffrey Baratheon, First of His Name….._

Jaime’s mind was blank.

Utterly, and completely blank.

No one dared say a word.

_How was this possible?_ Jaime finally thought.

He’d never imagined that his son, that Joffrey would arrest not only his grandfather but his mother and his uncle. And for what? For Margaery Tyrell? What had Olenna said to him, to make him turn his back on the only family he had?

“Sire?” someone asked, voice tentative, as Jaime started to shake.

With rage.

All-consuming rage.

“What will we do, Ser Jaime?” another asked as the raven crumpled in Jaime’s hand.

“Perhaps it is time I earned my title as Kingslayer, once again,” Jaime said, an almost feral smile slashed across his handsome face. “We leave at first light. House Lannister marches on King’s Landing and we will not leave until either King Joffrey is dead, or I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that just happened *ducks and hides*
> 
> Up Next:
> 
> Jaime marches on King's Landing


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tywin's perspective and Jaime arrives in King's Landing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning:
> 
> Descriptions of torture and a major character death.
> 
> I am well off TV show canon now.

_ King's Landing – Tywin  _

In his moments of clarity, between the brutal torture and beatings that the King had his loyal men administer to him, Tywin could admit that he should have seen this coming sooner. Still, he spent hours going over the events that had led to his arrest and subsequent torture, knowing that the accomplishments of his heir were what kept him going during these brutal times.

Since the moment his son had left King's Landing with his new wife and half the Lannister Army, Joffrey had been snappish, cold and standoffish to Tywin and his position as Hand. Gone was any level of respect that Tywin had seemed to have with Joffrey, replaced by ill temper and outbursts.

With Jaime dismissed from the Kingsguard, and only Tywin remaining, the Great Lion should have been the advisor that Joffrey sought out most. Instead, more often than not, Tywin had found Margaery speaking with her betrothed.

The King had somehow found men as vile as Trant and Blount to replace in his Kingsguard, and he rarely asked for Tywin's counsel or advice. Tywin knew the small leash that he had on Joffrey had been fraying by the day.

Gone was the day when Joffrey looked at him as the saviour of King's Landing. Now, Tywin knew, the King looked at him with suspicion and distrust since the marriage between Jaime and Sansa. What had been a boon for House Lannister was a problem for the King who still believed himself a Baratheon.

Of course, his daughter had barely spoken to him, too enraged that Jaime had finally done his duty to not only his house but to the Westerlands and married.

She was a jealous fool if she thought that Tywin would do anything to prevent Jaime and Sansa from the path they were on no matter how much she raged at Tywin in the Tower of the Hand, trying to get him to see something that did not exist – namely that Sansa Stark was bad for Jaime.

Each raven Tywin received refuted Cersei’s claim that Sansa would destroy House Lannister. With growing pride and a sense of accomplishment, Tywin followed Jaime's journey.

First, the conclave at the Saltpans, where Lysa Arryn and Petyr Baelish were dispatched. It was simple, direct and done without fanfare. Tywin heartily approved.

Tywin had moved swiftly upon receiving that news of Littlefinger’s death. He seized all of his brothels and gold, shut them down and wrestled back control from the man from the Vale. His network of spies had now become Tywin’s.

When news came that the Twins were secured and that the Freys and Boltons had been dealt with, Tywin had smirked into his cup as he stood in his tower overlooking the Capital.

Tywin was sure that Robb Stark, the Young Wolf, would not venture south again. He had been sent home, alliance firmly in place to secure the North. And not a moment too soon, with Stannis Baratheon still lurking on Dragonstone. It was a remarkably brilliant plan to neutralize an enemy that had devastated them in the West, and one that Tywin knew made his house stronger.

Jaime and Sansa’s journey through the Riverlands came with the distressing news that Catelyn Stark had escaped Lannister guards, and was lost to them. Tywin had immediately sent men out to find her. That woman had caused more home to both their houses than any one woman should be capable of, and if Tywin found her, she would be dealt with.

Tywin cackled with glee when he read that the Blackfish was accompanying his son down to the Rock and then on to Highgarden. Edmure Tully was a fool, but his uncle was decidedly not. Jaime would do well to heed the man's council when he left his wife at the Rock. And Tywin knew that he was a competent and steady military commander. Alliances such as this were forged in conquest and war, and the idea of taking the Reach, of finally breaking Olenna and her smug superiority had Tywin rubbing his hands in anticipation.

The raven from Kevan described in detail the resistance that Jaime and Sansa had met at the Golden Tooth. Tywin had snarled that House Lefford thought they might defy their liege lords until Kevan's raven spoke of how Sansa had spoken openly and honestly about their fears.

_Tywin,_

_When Sansa revealed to those gathered at the Tooth why Jaime made the decision he made all those years ago in King's Landing, it was unlike anything I have ever witnessed. It is evident to everyone who watches them interact that the love she has for your son in true and real, brother. With his wolf wife at his side, your firstborn son is truly the Golden Lion, and I have no doubts that they will be beloved by all in the Westerlands._

_Kevan_

She was a singularly remarkable woman. One who was saving his house from ruin and Tywin wished he could have seen her impassioned speech about his son to their bannermen. Since learning the truth about Jaime’s actions, Tywin regretted this distance that had been between them, hoping that he’d have time to spend with Jaime, to learn the man he was today.

Sansa's pregnancy also helped win people to her side. Tywin hoped that Jaime understood now what his reluctance to take a proper wife had almost cost them. He was needed in the West. He was what was required as Tywin's heir. Without Jaime to take his rightful place, the West had been weakened, and uncertainty had ruled.

Jaime had written that a midwife believed them to be pregnant with twins, and it was a bounty that Tywin could scarce believe.

This was the lesson he'd tried to teach his children again and again; it was the House that puts family first that would thrive. It was what was passed down to your children and your children's children.

Finally, Jaime had given the Westerlands what it needed to be strong again; proper heirs that would not have a whiff of scandal attached to their name and a strong position in which to rule from. Tywin knew that Jaime’s wife was safe at the Rock; there was no better place for her, no matter what might happen to Jaime or to him.

Tywin had been shocked to receive a raven from Sansa after her first week at the Rock. She thanked him profusely for Joanna's jewelry and wrote eloquently about the Rock itself. Tywin had hardly met someone from outside the Westerlands that seemed to love the Rock as much as Jaime's wife did, but there was no mockery or jape in her words. She genuinely seemed to enjoy it there, and the idea of her and Jaime settled in Joanna's old chambers warmed Tywin's, long-dead heart.

He could imagine her ripe with the next lions, and more importantly, safe. Safe behind the high walls of the Rock. Jaime had made the correct choice in taking her there.

Now, more than ever, as Tywin screamed through the pain of having fingernails ripped from their beds, spikes driven into his body, he knew that Sansa and her children were safe. Should he die, and the possibility became more real each day, his family name would live on. She had ensured that.

It was that knowledge that Tywin clung to as he was whipped until his back was a bloody, raw mess that was then doused with saltwater to deepen his agony. He barely healed before they were at him again, breaking fingers, smashing his ribs, arms and legs with blunt clubs and the flat of swords. They opened his back again and again, until it was a bloody pulpy mess of raw tissue that would most likely never heal properly.

Sansa was at the Rock.

Sansa was pregnant with twins.

She was safe.

She was untouchable. Her and her children. Jaime's children. The next Lannisters. The King could not get her there.

It was a mantra in his head, over and over again, the only thing that sustained him through the pain.

They were careful with his face. Tywin had heard the King, his vile, loathsome, evil grandson, order them not to do any permanent damage there. He tried to figure out why, but soon the pain overcame any ability Tywin had to think logically, and he was loath to admit his mind was slowly breaking under the relentless assault on his body.

Everywhere else was fair game, as he was tortured until he passed out, his screams echoing off the walls of the black cells and in his mind.

It was an ignoble end to a remarkable life, and Tywin's only joy was that his son had secured the Lannister name, and Tywin had been able to send his remaining army North to Harrenhal to meet with Royce.

Tywin knew that Jaime would destroy House Tyrell and the King. His death would not be in vain.

The last raven Tywin had received from Jaime had been when his son had written that they had taken Highgarden, negotiated a sizeable fleet from the Hightowers and taken the Reach with hardly a drop of blood spilled.

Tywin had been in the Throne Room when the King read the raven from Jaime, and he knew at that moment that he would not be able to hold King's Landing. The Tyrell army was here, and it outnumbered his three to one. With Jaime still three weeks away, Tywin had no hope but to send the Lannister forces North, hoping that he would not die before Jaime arrived.

Tywin only wished he had been able to send Cersei and Tyrion away as well, but his daughter, stubborn as ever, argued that her son would never turn on her, on them, and Tyrion refused to be spirited away.

"He is a lion, not a stag, and he will not betray our house."

“You are a fool if you believe that the rose of Highgarden is not whispering in his ear. We are a threat, Cersei.”

She had stormed out of the room, unwilling to listen to him.

As Lannister forces fled North, Tywin watched as his prediction came true, and Joffrey's Kingsguard seized all three Lannister's left in King's Landing.

Tywin knew some might wonder why he had not fled; he had sent his army away. Surely, he. could have gone himself, been at the head of the retinue?

He stayed because he knew that Jaime needed a reason to take King's Landing, a reason to rally people to his cause, to depose King Joffrey and take the throne by conquest. They needed to end the Baratheon line and stop Stannis' claim. It was the only way.

And if Tywin needed to give his life for that to happen, to have his son and his wife sit on the Iron Throne, then it was a risk Tywin had been willing to take.

His only joy now, other than thinking of his son smashing the King and seating himself on the throne, was the fact that no matter the torture, no matter his screams, they got nothing from him.

All manner of implements were used, but he did not break. He would not tell them of Jaime's plans.

Tywin lost track of all time, never knowing if it was morning or night, sometimes feeling like it had been days since someone had last been down to beat him, burn him, bleed him.

All he knew was that Jaime was coming. The Golden Lion would avenge what had happened here and take his place as the next King of Westeros. And that, Tywin thought, before losing consciousness again, was enough for him to endure one more minute, one more hour, one more day of this endless torture.

Let it never be said that Tywin Lannister, the Great Lion of Casterly Rock, did not do everything in his power to secure his family's legacy, including give his own life to the see Jaime on the Iron Throne.

_ The Rose Road – The Lannister Army _

If Jaime had pushed his army fast and hard down the Ocean Road towards Highgarden, there was no word for the pace he set for them to reach King's Landing. Over and over, his mind repeated his son's cruel taunt.

_I can hear grandfather's screams from here._

_I can hear grandfather's screams from here. _

Jaime knew that Joffrey had a remarkable capacity to inflict pain upon others. Sansa had told him in great detail how Joffrey liked to watch her hurt, to watch her suffer. Although his son was an amateur when it came to torture on the level of Ramsay Bolton, he could stomach more than Jaime ever could.

Jaime preferred a clean kill if killing had to be done.

Joffrey liked to play with his victims.

Jaime's stomach twisted as he thought of what his father might have to endure until he could reach him, and even then, Jaime knew it might be too late. There were men who did this, who tortured and maimed and beat people as their occupation and Joffrey had access to them.

He felt sick, possessed by a rage he had never felt as they pushed hard to King's Landing. Word had spread like wildfire through their encampment about the arrests and charges of treason against the Great Lion, Tyrion and the Queen Regent.

Jaime had seethed the entire day, wondering if Joff had tortured Tywin before the wedding ceremony; if Cersei had at least been present, or if his traitorous son was fully controlled now by the female roses. Ten days after leaving Highgarden, word came of the wedding between Joffrey and Margaery.

Jaime’s small but loyal group of advisors found him in his tent that night, lost in his mind, thinking of how Tyrion had entered the castle in his previous life for a parlay to discuss the dead army.

"We have to be smart, Jaime," Kevan said, his voice tired and eyes haunted. He had been with Tywin his entire life, his brother's most loyal companion. Jaime turned to look at his uncle who'd brought the others with him.

For days they'd allowed him his space, knowing he was in no mood to talk.

Kevan had tried to offer comfort, but Jaime had snarled at him and sent him away, knowing there was nothing that would bring him any sense of relief until this was done. Either he or Joffrey would die, and Jaime was prepared to swing the sword himself. Let everyone in the seven kingdoms call him a Kingslayer again. He'd proudly wear that mantle if it meant saving his family from his son.

His son.

His cruel, vicious son.

If ever there had been a sliver of doubt about Joffrey's fate, it was erased with this action.

"What would you have me do, uncle? I plan on getting my family back, and then I plan on destroying the Tyrell army. But to do so, I need to be in King's Landing."

"You need to tell the people why," came the Blackfish's voice.

He was fully committed to this alliance now. He’d witnessed the devastation on Jaime’s face when he’d learned of his father’s fate, and he’d seen the look in his eye when Jaime said he’d kill the King. For better or worse, House Tully’s fate was tied to House Lannister. And, surprisingly enough, Brynden had come to like Jaime Lannister, a feat he’d never thought possible mere months ago.

Jaime turned to stare at the man. Addam and Daven were there as well.

"What?"

"Why- you need to tell them why."

“Who?” Jaime asked, completely at a loss.

Kevan started to nod, eagerly as he clapped his friend from the Riverlands on the back. "Everyone. I wonder how many of the houses loyal to the Reach knew that Lady Olenna tried to kill your wife, Jaime."

Jaime looked stunned. "And this matters?"

Brynden nodded. "Very much. It gives what has happened legitimacy. It tells the story of why House Lannister went against the King; why the North, the Riverlands and the Vale joined. To avenge your wife; my niece, the Young Wolf’s sister. We are here, all of us, because of what Olenna Tyrell did to Sansa.”

Jaime glanced around at the others who nodded.

"Flood the Kingdom. Tell what happened in King's Landing at my wedding, why we marched on Highgarden. From the Wall to Sunspear, let it be known why we march to war."

Jaime nodded, thanking these men whom he’d become exceptionally close with.

Ravens went out that very night; thousands of them and Jaime wondered if perhaps his little brother would be proud of the move he'd just made. It was a very Tyrion-like thing to do.

There were three days outside King's Landing when the raven from Varys arrived.

_When spiders and lions work together, even seemingly insurmountable odds can be overcome. The Great Lion lives._

Relief washed through Jaime, even as he eyed the raven suspiciously. 

He had worked with Varys last time to secure Tyrion's release from the Black Cells, only to have his brother murder their father. That had been a spectacular failure.

Now it seemed like Varys was willing to help them save Tywin.

Jaime had to give the eunuch credit; he was playing the long game. He knew that Varys' loyalty was to the common people and to House Targaryen. But Dany was a long way from Westeros, and if neither Tyrion nor Varys went to Essos, would she even make it back here? Jaime’s most pressing concern right now was to get his father back. 

Unknown to everyone was the knowledge that Jaime knew how to gain entry to King's Landing via the secret entrance he'd used twice before, ironically both times to either smuggled Tyrion out or bring him in for a meeting.

Jaime knew that the Tyrell's would pull all their forces inside the city walls and bar the gates. But gates could be opened from inside if you knew a secret way into the Capital. Jaime had no doubts that he could route the Tyrell forces, and he would do so. But mostly, he just wanted his family back safe.

Still, he'd play the game because if Varys could deliver Tywin, it would be a blow to Joffrey.

The closer they got to King's Landing, the more that Jaime's mind turned to strategy; to war. They had stormed past Bitterbridge, encountering no resistance, which made Jaime shake his head. Had Mace or Olenna or anyone in their alliance been thinking strategically, they would have done more to impede his march to the capital.

_They had to know he'd come, didn't they_? Jaime thought.

It was as if Olenna was in control of some actions, Joff the others. The moment the King had placed Tywin under arrest, the matriarch of the Tyrell family would have realized what that meant.

Jaime had a brief moment to wonder if there was anyone left to control Joffrey.

_Was it possible that not even the roses of Highgarden had any influence on him? _

That was a terrifying thought as they pushed fast through the Kingswood, pushing ever closer to where are a large portion of his family was.

Jaime thanked the gods he dealt with Petyr and that he'd gotten Sansa out of King's Landing. There would have been no way that Joffrey or Olenna wouldn't have tried for her again. As it was, she was as safe as she could be at the Rock. While before, when he was in the Reach, he missed her, now he was glad she was nowhere near the King. Jaime knew that if Joffrey ever got his hands on his wife, her suffering would be unimaginable.

When the capital finally came into view, the sense of both relief and rage Jaime felt warred for supremacy within him. Half his family was there. Their march through the Riverlands and the West had reignited Jaime's passion for his name, his region and his House. He would not allow Joffrey to destroy them, not as long as he still drew breath.

"Are you ready for this?" came Kevan's quiet voice on his left. Daven was on his right, stating that he was with Jaime through whatever choices he made.

"I am uncle," Jaime responded, eyes unwavering from the Red Keep, towering in the distance.

"Royce is at the Gate of the Gods with the rest of the Lannister army," Addam reported.

A slow smile spread across Jaime's face. Of course, his father would have sent his army out of King's Landing once he had known it was a lost cause.

"How many men does Royce have?"

"At least ten thousand, sire. Perhaps closer to fifteen."

Jaime nodded. He had at least twenty-five thousand men at his back here at the King's Gate. Together, they were forty-thousand strong, and they would take King's Landing apart.

Jaime knew that the King's Gate needed to be replaced. It was not the barrier that the King believed it to be. Jaime had been sent by Cersei to inspect all seven of the gates into King's Landing and knew many of the castle's secrets. He also knew that he was in the best position for Varys to deliver his family as they were closet to the harbour and the caves.

He also had an unimpeded view, being south, of the Red Keep, high on Aegon's hill.

His army set up camp, and Jaime knew there was no way that those inside the Capital did not know he was here. Lannister lions, Tully fish, and even the towers of House Hightower – all those banners waved now, clearly on display. Baelor was committed now to this cause and fully backed Jaime.

That first night, Jaime found a piece of parchment on his map.

It contained one word; _tomorrow_.

Jaime crumpled it and settled in to wait, wondering exactly who the Master of Whispers would bring to him, and what Varys would demand for his services.

No matter the price, Jaime would pay. He wanted his family back and would stop at nothing to get.

_ King's Landing – Tyrion  _

It took a week before his idiot sister finally realized that her precious son, her little bastard boy, her King, was not going to let her go. Joffrey had not been by to speak with her since the moment he had them all placed under arrest in the Tower of the Hand.

Judging by his father's last act, sending the rest of the Lannister army away, Tyrion knew that Tywin had anticipated such an outcome.

With every raven sent during Jaime and Sansa's journey, Tyrion could see the power that they were consolidating.

By the time Jaime took the Twins, it was clear that House Lannister was building a solid power base with the North, the Riverlands and the Vale as its allies.

Cersei pouted and raged and stewed over Jaime's betrayal, but that was a moot point. She knew as well as anyone that she was fast losing ground, even with her son and that stupid crown he wore.

When word came that Sansa was pregnant, she spent three days in a wine-induced stupor, knowing that she had lost everything. Tyrion wondered if she had seriously thought that one of Joffrey’s vile offspring might inherit the Rock. He shuddered at the thought, grateful his goodsister would give the West the next lion it needed.

The Rock was Jaime's, his heir was now on the way, and he made for Casterly Rock, an impenetrable castle that could withstand a siege for five years.

He had control of the most massive army in Westeros, a decent navy and more gold than even the Tyrell's and Hightower's combined.

He was as powerful as their father had ever been, and Tyrion watched as Tywin's pride grew in his son, and Cersei’s hated and despair deepened. 

What no one, including Tyrion, had excepted, was for Jaime to take Highgarden, although when the raven had been read, Tywin had barely reacted. _So he knew,_ Tyrion thought to himself.

Of course, no one had expected Olenna to empty to the Reach and march her army down the Rose Road to King's Landing.

Still, it was a bold and dangerous move taking Highgarden when the roses circled King’s Landing and sitting locked in his sister's room, Tyrion wondered if Jaime was prepared for the price.

Cersei had been willfully ignorant about her son, even after their imposed imprisonment until their father had been dragged into the Throne room, starved, beaten, bloody and almost broken.

Cersei had gasped and tried to rush towards her father, who had his guards hold her back as they watched his men systematically beat the Great Lion.

Tears were openly streaming down Cersei's face by the end, Tywin coughing up blood as he lay in a crumpled heap on the stone floor. Even Olenna had to look away, her face awash in horror at what she was witnessing. Tyrion wanted to slit her throat for what she had orchestrated.

Thankfully it was Margaery who finally got through, convicting Joffrey that a Maester should be called.

"We need him alive, my love, for when Ser Jaime arrives. It will be more powerful to have his beloved son witness his death," she murmured and got Joffrey's consent. He seemed to relish the idea of having Jaime witness him kill the Great Lion.

That night, back in their chambers, for the first time in their entire lives, Cersei sobbed for what had become of their family.

"You must help him, Tyrion. He won't wait for Jaime. Joffrey will kill Father," she said, clutching at him.

"And how do you think I can help, dear sister? I am locked away, as surely as you are."

Her eyes narrowed. "I know you and the spider are close. And if you think I don't know that you know every way in and out of this castle, then you are sorely mistaken. You forget how well I know you."

Tyrion said nothing. Since the moment Joffrey had locked them in the Tower of the hand, he had been working on freeing their father. Though the man loathed him, he had started a war to get him back. The least Tyrion could do save him from more torture. Besides, Tyrion wanted to watch as Tywin took Joffrey's head.

While Lady Olenna had a sharp wit and a keen mind, the one thing she did not have time for was those she viewed as common; those below her station. She knew, rationally, how Varys and his network of spies worked, but assumed, incorrectly, that the eunuch would transfer his loyalty to whoever held power.

It was a grave mistake on her part, Tyrion knew, that she hadn't spent more time trying to understand the spider. Tyrion knew the man would support a King that people the common people first. And that was not Joffrey Baratheon. For days now, Varys' spies had been delivering notes to their rooms. Of course, Tyrion had said nothing to Cersei.

He did not trust his sister. He was still unsure what she would choose them over her son. It wasn't until the scene in the Throne room, seeing the Great Lion brought so low, and Joffrey chortling in glee, calling for more when Tyrion knew she was finally willing to admit that he was no longer hers.

Tyrion took a sip of water and looked at her. He'd left the wine to her, needing his wits.

"And if I get our father to freedom, what becomes of you sweet sister?"

She waved a hand. So far, their imprisonment had been rather comfortable and boring.

"He is my son. He will not harm me."

"He means to put us on trial."

Cersei snorted. "He will not. If you and father are gone, I am still Queen regent. He knows he needs me if he is ever going to keep his crown. You cannot rule the Iron Throne with one region at your back."

Tyrion could see her face and decision was set. Cersei was only willing to go so far in calling Joffrey a monster. After all, she could take most of the credit for creating him, moulding him into the man he was today.

Tyrion knew the timing had to be perfect. They all knew Jaime was coming. After he had taken Highgarden and sent the raven to the King, he would not stay in the Reach; there was no need. Jaime had men, gold, weapons and the love of the people.

Olenna had been a fool if she thought King's Landing was easily defendable and that Jaime would not take it apart, brick by brick.

The people here hated the King and would rise up the moment another army arrived outside the city gates. She had no navy here, the Redwyne fleet having not moved from the Arbor, and Mace was not the military commander that Jaime was. Or the Blackfish. He'd been unable to take Storm's End after a year of throwing everything possible at it, and Joffrey was not a King to wait out a siege.

"Alright, sister, I will get our father out."

Cersei gave a jerky nod of her head and then turned away, lost in her head of what had gone wrong. She blamed Jaime's wife, and Joffrey's betrothed and spent hours plotting how she would make Sansa Stark and Margaery Tyrell pay when this farce was finally settled.

It was the only thought that sustained her; revenge against women that had manipulated the two men in her life that she, until recently, had total control over.

She knew she needed to stay, to be close to her son when he realized how House Tyrell had used him. He would be devastated, embarrassed and ashamed at the choices he had made. And he would turn to her, again, to help him rule. Cersei would not leave when she was so close to the Throne. She hadn’t suffered through Robert to give it all up.

When the orphan slipped into their room a few nights later, Tyrion knew it was time. Neither he nor Cersei had slept much these past few days.

"Are you sure, sister?" he asked one last time.

She gave a jerky nod. "Remind my twin, who saved our father, Tyrion. Jaime needs to know what he did by abandoning us."

Tyrion wanted to argue, but he knew it was pointless with her about Jaime. Tyrion didn’t know if Cersei loved Jaime and was hurt that he’d fallen in love with his wife, or if she were just angry that she no longer had any power over him.

"And, Joffrey?"

"He is my son. He won't hurt me."

Tyrion held his tongue. He had a vastly different opinion on what the King may or may not do the moment he found Tyrion and Tywin gone. But he knew that there would be no dissuading his sister.

Tyrion thought he should say more; he didn't know when he might see her again. But too much hatred and jealousy and hurt between them stilled his tongue. She would not welcome any words of comfort or thanks, so he slipped from the room, the last image of her was as she sat in a chair, cradling a glass of Dornish red.

They moved quickly through the castle. The guards outside their room had swiftly been dispatched, and Tyrion knew all the secret passageways. He was startled, though, when he met Varys himself outside the entrance to the black cells.

The eunuch raised an eyebrow. "You think they will not look to me the moment they discover you gone?"

Nodding, Tyrion took the torch. He trusted that Varys had dealt with the guards here, and sure enough, as they made their way down the stairs to the Red Keep's infamous dungeons, there wasn't another soul around.

The air was dank and fetid and smelled of fear and death itself. Shit and urine, blood and hopelessness all mixed in a gag-inducing stench that had Tyrion choking.

"He's at the end."

"How bad?"

Varys paused. "Not good."

Tyrion grimaced. He needed his father to be able to walk. They needed to get to the very bowels of the castle and out the sewers, where a small cove and boat awaited. There, they would be free. If Tywin couldn't walk, this would all be for naught.

Varys somehow produced a key when they came to the last cell. Tyrion lifted his torch, seeing his father's frame, gaunt and hunched over on a filthy bed of straw. When the light shone, rats scurried away and Tyrion wanted to be sick, trying not to think what they might have been doing to him.

Even though this man had treated him horribly, had never loved him, had berated and ridiculed him, the rage that Tyrion felt at seeing the Great Lion thusly pulsed hot through his veins.

It was an insult to every Lannister what had been done to Tywin, and Tyrion wanted Joffrey's head more than ever.

They slid the door to the cell open, Tywin not even rousing.

"I brought clothing," Varys whispered, indicating a small bundle.

"Father," Tyrion said, creeping closer, careful to try to avoid the muck on the floor. He hadn't even been provided with a pot in which to void his bladder or bowels.

Tywin stirred and moaned, pain in every movement and Tyrion swallowed down the bile as he took in his father's back that was a mess of ropy angry, raw, red tissue. He had been whipped again and again and burned if the charred flesh was anything to go by. When he finally rolled to his front, Tyrion vomited on the floor.

Even though his face had been untouched, every other part of Tywin was battered. His hands and fingers looked as if every bone had been broken, his arm hanging at a funny angle. His front was as red as his back, and Tyrion knew his father must have broken ribs.

"Father, we are here to get your out."

"Tyrion?" His voice was breathy and weak.

"Yes. It is me. We must go. Now."

"What are you doing?"

Tywin's normally green eyes were cloudy with pain, hunger, and lack of light.

"We must go."

"Is Jaime here?"

Tyrion swallowed hard and looked at Varys, who nodded. "Yes, father. Jaime is here. With your army. But we must go. If we were to be caught…"

That stirred the Great Lion, who, with a muffled scream, tried to push himself upwards. He would have collapsed back down if he weren't held up by Varys and Tyrion. Varys coughed, and suddenly three orphans darted into the black cells, working quickly to dress Tywin.

He sipped at a flagon of water, his vision clearing as if he realized he was not being dragged to yet another torture session. When he was dressed and able to hold himself up, he nodded to Tyrion.

"You have a way out?"

"I do. We must go. Now."

The longer they stayed, the worse their chance to escape.

Tywin nodded and tried to rise, helped by those five in the cells. His muscles were cramped and protesting, as he gingerly tried to walk.

It was painful, each step torture, but they slowly made their way from the black cells. They had to pause more than Tyrion would have liked, but gradually they made their way lower and lower towards the entrance that Tyrion knew few were aware of. Varys must have worked some type of magic to have the hallways cleared the way he did.

When Tyrion mentioned it, the eunuch shrugged. "Perhaps some in the royal quarters had some sweet sleep in their wine tonight," making Tyrion chuckled at his friend's genius. When they slipped into the secret passageway, Tyrion breathed a little easier.

"Tyrion, how much further?" came Tywin's pained gasped.

He was sweating profusely, and Tyrion knew his pain had to be unimaginable. His feet had been all but destroyed; Tyrion thought that a toe or two might have been cut from his father's feet, he was missing toenails, and the soles of his feet looked like raw meat.

"Not far," Tyrion said.

They were now deep in the castle, where all the old skulls of the Targaryen dragons were stored, and Tyrion could practically smell the sea through the small entrance at the back of the cave-like enclosure they were in.

"You have a boat waiting?"

Varys nodded. "Yes, and Ser Jaime is outside the King's Gate, My Lord. It is a short ride to him and safety."

"Hey, you there, stop!" came a strange voice, and Tyrion felt his stomach drop. They were so close.

"Take my father and go," he hissed to Varys. "I'll catch up."

Varys wanted to argue, but another moan from Tywin pulled his attention back to the Great Lion. He knew they'd all be dead if they didn't get him to his firstborn son.

"Don't be a hero," Varys warned, and Tyrion barked out a short laugh.

The small sword he had strapped to his side was more dagger than anything else, but Tyrion knew if he were fast and unassuming, he might catch the guard unaware. He thanked the gods there was only one.

"No worries. I was sent to inspect the sewers for the King," Tyrion said, turning and walking slowly back to the man who appeared to be part of the city watch.

"You're not supposed to be down 'er," he said, accent thick.

"Well, I was sent here, by the King."

The man scratched at his scraggly beard.

"Don't remember nuttin' bout that," the idiot said as Tyrion got closer. He had to do something. He was much too curious and would never allow them to escape.

Tyrion's hand loosen his sword, settling on the pommel. He just needed one strike.

"Well, I have permission. If you give me a moment, I can show you the order from the King."

"Can't read so won't do no good," the man continued.

Tyrion made a motion to reach into his pocket and instead came up with his sword. He stabbed upwards, straight through the man's genitals, and watched him crumple to his knees, howling in rage. By the amount of blood he was losing, Tyrion knew he was as good as dead and satisfied with what he'd done, he turned, to hurry and caught his father and Varys.

He knew that Varys little birds would deal with the dead man when Tyrion was gone. He was several steps from the man, when he felt a sharp, intense pain in his back and turned, seeing the dying man with his arm extended.

Tyrion looked down, horror and shock rushing through him, to see a small dagger protruding from his side.

He knew not to pull it, not here and gritted his teeth through the pain and kept hobbling along until finally, he was free from the towering Red Keep and on the beach.

"Hurry," Varys whispered to him, as Tyrion felt his body slow, the world going hazy. He was suddenly scooped up in someone's arms and put in a boat, the rocking motion allowing him to understand what was happening as he drifted in and out.

"Did we make it?" he asked, thinking it might be nice to see his brother one last time.

"Almost," replied Varys, and then the world faded to black.

_ The King's Gate, south of King's Landing – Jaime  _

"Sire, they are here," came Kevan's breathless voice.

"Here?"

Kevan nodded as Jaime scrambled to his feet. He had been composing another raven to Sansa, one of several he seemed to write each day. He kept her informed of everything, knowing he controlled the entire region between here and the West and that they could converse freely. She was his only joy in these bleak times. As if she knew what he needed, she kept him informed of her life at the Rock, her pregnancy and how much she missed him.

"Who?” he demanded.

Instead of answering, Kevan swallowed hard and put a hand on Jaime's arm. "It's bad, Jaime."

Jaime paled and his voice rose. "Who?"

"Your father and Tyrion, but both are near death, Jaime. We've called for our best Maesters."

"Cersei?" Jaime asked. Long gone were feelings of romantic love for his twin. But she was his sister, and he did love her, despite her manipulations. Jaime had always loved his family best.

Kevan shook his head. "We don't know. As far as we can tell, she is still in the Red Keep."

Jaime's blood chilled at the thought and then he nodded as Kevan hurried him out of the main tent and towards the one that had been set aside for those injured or sick.

Jaime burst inside and then stopped, unable to believe what his eyes were seeing.

His father had been stripped down so that everything that had been done to him was on display. Jaime wanted to vomit at what he must have endured.

"How is he alive?" Jaime whispered to Kevan, who was the only person besides Jaime that had been allowed entrance to the tent.

The Maesters had him on a soft bed and were slowly carefully cleaning and bandaging him, wiping paste on burns and stitching lacerations.

Jaime stepped closer, and his father's eyes fluttered open.

"Jaime?" he whispered and weakly held a hand up. Jaime clutched at it.

"I am here, father. I am here," Jaime said, a promise in his words, emotion almost choking him. His father was alive! He had arrived in time, and even though he was in bad shape, he was alive.

"We've given him sweet sleep, as well as something for the pain. Some of what we must do, it is going to feel like we are torturing him all over again," one man said, his voice soft but firm.

"Do whatever you must." Jaime never took his eyes from his father, cataloging exactly what they had done to him.

"He has multiple broken bones, including ribs, fingers and his lower left arm. Many of his toenails and fingernails are missing, along with several toes from both feet. He was whipped, burnt, stabbed and beaten. Repeatedly. He was starved, nearly two weeks as far as we can tell and barely allowed a chance to heal between sessions.”

Indeed Tywin's once-dominant frame was almost skeletal now, and Jaime nodded, sickness churning in his stomach. His father had endured this, all of this for him. To make it so that Jaime had a valid reason to take the Iron Throne; to break the Baratheon claim. He would never be worthy of his father's sacrifices, but Jaime vowed he'd avenge every mark on his father's body.

Jaime leaned down, Tywin's hand had gone limp as he passed into a drug-induced sleep, and pressed a kiss to his father's forehead.

"I will avenge what was done to you, father. I vow this. Until either I am dead or they are. Joffrey Baratheon and House Tyrell will pay for what they have done." His voice held a promise to avenge this atrocity and even though Tywin could not respond, his entire body finally relaxed into oblivion, as if he knew that Jaime would make things right, somehow.

When Jaime rose, another moan drew his attention to the other side of the tent. There, Jaime saw Maesters scrambling to hold Tyrion down and staunch the flow of blood from what looked like a knife wound in his side.

He strode across the tent.

"Brother!" he cried as Tyrion swore and looked down where a Maester was trying to stitch him.

"Jaime," Tyrion said, hissing out a pained sigh. "I do not advise getting stabbed. It is quite painful and not nearly as heroic as they make it seem."

"How?" Jaime said, a grin finally breaking through on his tired face.

In between snarled hisses at the man sewing him up, Tyrion explained his friendship and his deal with Varys.

"And Cersei?"

Tyrion shook his head. "She wouldn't leave, Jaime. She is convinced that Joffrey won't hurt her."

"And you?"

Tyrion looked across the tent to their father and shook his head. There seemed to be even more people working on him than before, and Jaime wondered if he'd ever be the man he once was. Torture changed you, as he well knew.

"How did this happen?" Jaime asked, guilt crashing down on him.

Perhaps they had been wrong to anger Joffrey; to push him as they had. Maybe they should have just seized power and never left King's Landing. Jaime had never foreseen this as an outcome. In their past life, Joffrey had always deferred to Tywin. Always.

Tyrion sighed as he was handed a goblet of wine laced with sweet sleep. "Jaime, Joffrey has always been like this. We simply underestimated the influence of Margaery on him."

"But father had to have known; seen something. He sent what was left of the Lannister army out of the city before Joffrey could stop him."

Tyrion nodded, laying down and resting on the bed.

"He must have. I don't know. After you left, Joffrey spent more and more time with his betrothed. He was in a rage when word came of your parlay in the Saltpans, and then, with victory at the Twins." Tyrion shrugged.

"Grandfather tried to convince him that he was winning the war with alliances and the cessation of fighting, but…"

Tyrion's eyes closed for a time, while Jaime sat there, trying to process what had happened.

"He had us a watch, once. That is what swung Cersei in our favour, Jaime. Joffrey had father brought to the Throne Room and had him beaten in front of us. I knew the moment you were close, I could escape, but I needed to wait until you were here."

"Why wouldn't she leave, Tyrion? Does she hate me that much?"

Tyrion gave a weary sigh. "She is not your biggest fan, Jaime. Not yours or Sansa's. I think she understands now, what it means, your marriage. Word came back to the Capital of the Golden Lion and his wolf wife. You are beloved in a way she never was and never could be. You are the Great Lion's heir, and you have given the West everything by taking your rightful place. She knows that it is all lost to her now. The only thing our sister has left is Joffrey, and even if she is disgusted by him and his actions, she does not believe he will hurt her."

Jaime saw that Tyrion's speech had exhausted him. He laid a hand on Tyrion's shoulder. "Rest, lion. You've done a great service to House Lannister. Your deeds will be remembered, brother."

Tyrion snorted. "Gods, you even sound like him. I hope he recovers, to see you become the man he always wanted you to be."

With that last comment, Tyrion closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, leaving Jaime alone with two of his three family members battered and clinging to life.

Jaime didn't leave his father's side for two days, and Tywin never regained consciousness. Any reports that he needed to see or hear were filtered through Kevan, as Tywin and Tyrion tried to heal.

Jaime knew he needed to send them home, to the Rock, where they would be safe. He asked the main healer when his father might be well enough to make the journey back to the Westerlands, and the man gave him a look.

"It is a miracle he survived," the man said, and Jaime nodded.

He'd been given a full accounting of his father's injuries and knew that his torture had been just that; torturous.

"I cannot have him here," he told the man. His father would take months to heal and recover, and Jaime knew he could do that safely under Sansa, Genna and Dorna's care in their family castle.

"I would insist you send someone who is aware of his condition with him. He will need to be transported in a carriage," the man finally said, and Jaime nodded.

"If he wakes, send for me. But I want him to leave for the West in two days."

The man nodded as Jaime crossed to gaze down at Tyrion. His little brother was hardly any better than their father. The wound, while deep, had been clean. Or so they thought. In the two days that they had sewed him shut, the wound had begun to rot. It was red and angry, and they'd opened it again to scoop out some of the rotting flesh and infection, but Jaime knew by the smell that Tyrion was in real danger.

He hadn't woken again either, so Jaime was left with a father and a brother who both clung to life, and a Castle in front of him that begged him to infiltrate it; to put right the wrongs that had been committed against House Lannister.

Jaime called for Royce, Kevan, the Blackfish, Daven, Addam and even Baelor. The last one was Varys. Jaime had so far avoided any discussion with the eunuch, but he knew that the only reason his father was not dead was because of the Master of Whispers.

When they gathered in his tent, Jaime looked like he'd been through hell. He was unkempt, his face prickly with stubble, and there were unidentifiable stains on his clothing. The only part of him that looked like the fearsome Lord he was were his eyes. They almost blazed with the need to dispense justice for the wrongs done to his family.

"What word do we have of inside the Keep?"

It was Varys that spoke, meeting Jaime's blazing green eyes. "The Tyrell army is fully in control of the Capital, Ser Jaime. They have the Kingsguard and the City Watch. Joffrey and his Queen, Margaery, are not convinced you will attack, as there are upwards of half a million people between them, their army and you."

Jaime nodded rightly. A human shield. It made sense if he were only at the Gate of the Gods.

Jaime pointed to his map of King's Landing. "The Gate of the Gods is the most secure. There is no way, no army you could throw at it, save perhaps a dragon, and have it open for you."

Everyone stared at Jaime, rapt fascination on their faces. "But this gate, the King's Gate, is weak. I know this as I was made to inspect them by Cersei in my time as Kingsguard. When we take the Capital, it will have to be a three-pronged attack. One from the Gate of the Gods, with Royce leading that army. You will push in and get as many people to flee as possible. You will engage the Tyrell army, street by the street if required Lord Royce, as you push towards Aegon's High Hill. It will force the Tyrell army to focus on you."

"Right now, my guess is they are focused on me. They will know that this gate is the weak point and that I have more men. They will also know that I am closer to the Red Keep, which is where Joffrey will be with his wife. My army will enter here, at the King's Gate. Of course, they will be waiting for us, but we are much stronger than they are. They will not be expecting us to breach the Gate of the Gods."

"And how will we breach that gate, Ser Jaime?" Royce said, voice dry.

"Is there still access in the lower levels of the keep where you smuggled my father out?"

Varys startled a bit, eyes narrowed. "I was not aware you knew the layout of the Red Keep so well, My Lord."

“There is much that you do not know about me, Varys.”

The eunuch nodded, tilting his head in assessment of Jaime. This was not the same man he’d seen for years. This Jaime was confident, brash and intelligent. Varys had seen a glimpse of this Jaime at his wedding, and it was refreshing to see how capable he was.

"A small party will enter using the secret entrance, both Varys and I know. They will open the gate for you, Lord Royce," Jaime ordered.

The man all but rubbed his hands in glee. The Vale lord was more than ready to push into King’s Landing.

"And when we have the King? The Queen? Her grandmother?" the Blackfish asked, never taking his eyes from Jaime's.

"They will pay for what they did to my father, Blackfish. They have to know that this is a battle to the death."

"And do you plan on slaying the King yourself?"

"If I must," Jaime snarled, smashing his fist down on the map. "He tortured my father. He laughed and tried to break him. He did unspeakable things to him. I will have his head, Blackfish if it is the last thing I do!"

Jaime's voice was a roar and no one doubt that the Golden Lion would not have his pound of flesh. "Olenna, Mace, Margaery, Joffrey. They are all dead. Any man who touched my father is dead. They will all pay with their lives, and anyone who stands against me is my enemy and can join them."

With that, Jaime stalked from the tent, needing air, the rage threatening to bring him to his knees. A sound behind him had him whirling to see Varys had followed him out.

"What?"

"I mean no harm, lion. My informants tell me that Joffrey is uncontrollable these days. Barely listening to anyone, even his wife."

"And my sister?"

Varys shrugged. "She was given a chance to escape. She declined."

"Will he hurt her?"

"I think the King would hurt anyone he needed to, Ser Jaime."

"I have Willas Tyrell. Perhaps a trade? Surely Joffrey wants to make his wife happy?"

"It might be worth trying, but know that there is almost nothing to hold Joffrey back these days, and your sister still believes she can influence him."

Jaime thanked the Master of Whispers and left to go and check on his father and brother.

Tywin was healing, although they kept him in a drug-induced sleep. Whenever he woke he grunted and moaned in pain, and it had almost broken Jaime to see a man such as him brought so low.

The plan was for him to leave for Casterly Rock in the morning, with a regiment of loyal Lannister knights to escort him home.

As much as Jaime wanted to send Tyrion as well, his brother was far too ill to move. He was in the grips of a fever now, and Jaime knew he could die at any moment.

Kevan found him, beside Tyrion's bed.

"Will you offer Willas for Cersei?"

Jaime snorted, wondering when his Uncle had started to know him so well.

"I will."

Kevan only nodded.

"Your father will be so proud of you, Jaime, when he hears what you have done."

"My actions allowed him to be tortured, almost to death. He might never recover. My brother hovers, barely keeping the Stranger at bay. Tell me, Uncle, what is there to be proud of?" Jaime heard the guilt in his voice; it ate at him daily.

"Tywin could have left with the Lannister army that he sent North to Royce. He made a choice Jaime, and you dishonour him and his sacrifices if you refuse to acknowledge his actions for what they were."

"And why do you think he allowed this to happen to him, Uncle?"

"A path to legitimacy for you, Sansa and your children Jaime. A chance for stability in the realm. A chance for peace."

Jaime startled, turning his head to look at Kevan. He knew if Sansa were here, she would have seen it, but he’d been too caught up in the emotion of what had happened to his family to examine why his father had done what he had.

"Tywin Lannister does not believe in peace, Uncle."

"He believes in you, Jaime, and he knows what is in your heart." Kevan rose and laid a hand on Jaime's shoulder. "You are all lions; do not make their sacrifices less."

The next morning Jaime sent the raven to Joffrey, offering him Willas Tyrell for Cersei and then watched as the carriage taking his father home went up the Gold Road. He would not risk the Rose Road and his father's safety in that newly secured region.

He'd shared his plans with Sansa, and she said she would welcome the Great Lion home warmly and nurse him back to health. Jaime could tell she was worried about him, but her support was unwavering.

While others were anxious for them to start their assault on the Capital, Jaime waited for word from the King.

It came two days later, with clear instructions for Jaime to bring Willas Tyrell to the Gate of the Gods, where an exchange would be made.

No one in Jaime's inner circle believed they should wait, that they should trust the King, but Jaime was in charge, and they knew that this was something he had to attempt.

When Jaime brought Willas Tyrell, hands loosely bound behind, he was accompanied by Kevan, Brynden, Addam, Daven, Varys, and Royce. Joffrey stood on the rampart, above the gate, maniacal grin on his face. His crown and hair were golden, but everything else about him was black.

Accompanying him was his Queen, Margaery, her grandmother, father, brother Loras and several of Joff's most loyal Kingsguards.

And Cersei.

Jaime sucked in a breath. It had been almost four months since he and Sansa had left this horrible place and since he'd last seen her. Unlike Tywin and Tyrion, it appeared her captivity had brought her no physical harm. Still, Jaime knew her better than anyone in Westeros, and he saw that she was scared. It was the slightest tightening around her eyes, the slight intake of breath and most telling how her fists clenched at her sides.

To anyone else, it would appear that she was merely standing by her son, as Jaime knew that she understood just how precarious her position was.

"Jaime," Kevan said, voice low, not liking anything about this situation.

"I know, Uncle."

Jaime knew that no one agreed with his choice to attempt to trade Willas for Cersei.

Kevan and Daven had argued long and hard about negotiating for Cersei. They felt they were Lannisters and the closest too Jaime to be able to give him their blunt council.

"Where will you put her, Jaime? At the Rock with your wife? Cersei hates Sansa. How long until your twin harms your wife? Your children?"

"Tommen is there, and we still might get Myrcella back. My sister deserves a chance to be with her children."

"At the Rock?"

"No, Uncle, I will not have her at the Rock. But perhaps Ashmark, or Crakehill. Deep den or the Tooth. There has to be a place for her in the West."

Kevan had wisely kept his opinion to himself after that, seeing that Jaime would not be dissuaded from this course of action. When Kevan had left, Daven took a chair and poured Jaime a goblet of wine.

"Drink," his cousin said and Jaime, not in the mood to argue anymore.

"Why?" Daven said, crossing his ankles and leaning back in his seat.

Jaime said nothing, wondering why he allowed being questioned in such a way.

"If what you tell me is true, that your love your Northern wife, then why Jaime? Why attempt the impossible to get Cersei back? Why give up our best prisoner?"

"She is my sister."

Daven nodded. "She is. And she had a chance for escape which she did not take."

Jaime hated that truth.

"From what you've told me, your sister hates your wife. A wife that your claim to love."

Jaime shot to his feet, snarling. "I love my wife, cousin. And I will run any man through who says otherwise."

Daven didn't react, just nodded. "You do. That much is clear. So why?"

Jaime paced the tent, like a caged lion, frustrated with his cousin's questions, frustrated with himself. His emotions had been out of control since he'd received the raven from his son and even having Tywin back, nothing was better. And now Daven was asking him questions that Jaime could hardly articulate the answers for.

"Cousin, I will ride to war with you. I will have your back, always, Jaime. I was wrong in my reaction to your wife. But you know how close you came to disaster by carrying on with your sister. So tell me, cousin, why should we show ourselves? The King is sure to have archers on us; he's playing games with you. Gods, your son tortured his own grandfather, again and again. So tell me, here and now, when it is just us, why should we attempt this negotiation?"

Jaime scrubbed a hand down his scruffy face and finally turned to face his cousin. "It isn't because I love her like that; not anymore. Not for a while. With distance and Sansa, and perspective, I have come to see Cersei for what she is." Jaime paused. "Perhaps I've always known exactly what she is. She is capable of monstrous actions, Daven."

Daven said nothing, just leaning in to catch Jaime's words. "But I am afraid for her. She cannot see Joffrey for what he is. For all her faults, she loves our children, beyond all reason, Daven. I have to try to save her from herself. One last time."

Daven nodded. "One last time. But promise me this, Jaime. Should anything happen at this parlay, you will not blame yourself. You have an entire council of people telling you that this is not only hopeless but an unwise choice."

"I know," came Jaime's tortured whisper, wondering if Daven were right. Was he just a fool trying to exchange Willas for Cersei? Would Joffrey even care?

"Just let me take care of our defence for this meeting. I'll not have us approach them like lambs being led to slaughter," Daven said, and Jaime nodded, feeling Daven's hand come down on his shoulder. "I am with you, cousin. Always. Go sit by your brother and tomorrow will be here soon enough."

Now here they were. The arches on horseback that Daven had arranged, along with the siege weapons that Lord Royce had been scrambling to build outside the main gate to King's Landing, ensured that they were as safe as could be given the King looked like he wanted to murder Jaime.

"Kingslayer," came Joff's voice, somehow carrying down to where Jaime had come to a stop. "Where are my prisoners, traitor?"

"Away and safe from your hands."

Joffrey snarled and jerked his head, as Cersei was shoved closer to him. "What makes you think that the Queen Mother even wants to go with you? You abandoned your family, Ser Jaime."

"They are your family, as well. Tell me, what King tortures his grandfather, his hand? A man that won a war for him? A man that brokered peace for him?"

"Peace? PEACE? Traitor! I know about the conclave with the Stark. You are a traitor, Ser Jaime! All the lions of House Lannister are traitors." Spittle threw from his mouth, his face moulted and red as his rage consumed him. Jaime swore he could see the madness in his son's eyes and knew that this is what he and Cersei had wrought by bringing him into this world.

It happened quickly before Jaime could even react.

Joffrey whispered something to the guard closest to him, and suddenly Cersei was in front of the man, whose white cloak made a mockery of everything a real Knight was supposed to stand for. One of them had a firm grip on her arm. She tried to struggle as if finally realizing that her son was truly the madmen everyone said he was.

Jaime barely had time to meet his twins' eyes, eyes that were his, scared eyes, when a sword arced down, and Cersei's head separated from her body.

Jaime felt numb as if he were unable to comprehend what had just happened. Her body, one he knew so well, crumpled and was tossed casually over the rampart so that it fell with finality that rocked Jaime to his very core.

"That is what I think of your offer, Uncle. Do whatever you want with Willas Tyrell. When I am done with you, I will take back Highgarden and march to Casterly Rock. I wonder if your wife will welcome me into her bed? She always wanted to marry the King." Joffrey's smile was cruel. "Don't worry, Uncle. I'll take my time with her. What was done to Grandfather will pale in comparison to what will happen to Lady Sansa."

The mention of Sansa and the glee with which he would torture her galvanized Jaime.

He turned his horse, revolted by the level of lust and madness on Joffrey's face, sickened by what had just happened. He refused to look at Cersei's lifeless body, instead of raising his eyes to the King, to his son.

To the person who had betrayed his House. The man who if given a chance would torture and kill Jaime’s beloved wife, who would carve his unborn children from her stomach and see them dead before they ever drew breath. There was no world in which Joffrey and Jaime could both live; not now, not ever. Before Jaime spoke again, he made sure that Joffrey’s eyes met his. 

"Do you know what Aerys said when I drove my sword into his back?"

Joffrey paled and sputtered, shocked at Jaime’s willingness to speak so openly about killing a King.

Jaime smirked.

"Nothing. Not a thing. Because he was dead at my hand. As you will be. That is my promise to you, Joffrey. And as you are well aware, I am a man that has no qualms killing a King. I will find you, and I will destroy you and everyone that has had a hand in this. I am coming for you, and I will not stop until you are dead."

Joffrey paled and started to bark out orders, but Jaime's back was already turned as he rode away.

He had seen everything he needed to. His son was dead; all that was left was the matter of how soon he could kill him. Joffrey was not, nor would he ever be a Lannister.

The King had tried to tear Jaime’s house apart, and he would pay; painfully and with his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that my choices make sense within THIS world that I built. 
> 
> Up Next:
> 
> Jaime storms King's Landing and Tywin arrives home at the Rock.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa's POV, Jaime takes King's Landing and Tywin arrives at the Rock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fear this is not as bloodthirsty as some of you may have liked, but I really loved how all of this evolved in this chapter. 
> 
> We backtrack a bit to see Sansa's POV (from time Jaime left for HG).

_ Sansa – Casterly Rock _

The first few weeks after Jaime left, Sansa spent adjusting to life at Casterly Rock. The keep was massive, the largest one that Sansa had ever been in, and it was a lot more extravagant than the Red Keep. She was thankful for Tommen, who proved to be a trusty guide and a treasure with his cheery outlook and sunny demeanour.

Sansa wondered how he could be related to Joffrey; they were nothing alike, thank the gods, and here, away from Joffrey and Cersei, Tommen was flourishing. Sansa oversaw his education and his training, so he'd made leaps and bounds from where he had been at when he'd left Cersei's care. Sansa met with the Maester at the Rock, named Creylen, to ensure that Tommen was learning what he needed to.

Sansa also spent hours with Genna and Dorna, learning as much as she could about her new home.

It wasn't just the stores, the food, the people; it was also nearby Lannisport and the surrounding villagers who depended on the Lannister seat for their existence.

There was a palpable hum of excitement that Jaime had taken his proper place, married, and that the new heirs to the Rock were on the way.

Despite her pregnancy, Sansa felt invigorated being here, and travelled throughout the castle's many rooms, continually learning as she went.

Sandor and Dacey trailed after her faithfully, always by her side. Sandor was distrustful of the lions, and Sansa caught himself muttering and casting dark looks as they moved around. Sansa would have giggled if she didn't know that people would have good reason to want her dead, and if she hadn't seen the hatred on Ser Daven's face.

Jaime wrote her ravens regularly, and they were mostly perfunctory except when it came to how much he loved her and missed her. Sansa knew the most dangerous part of his entire mission was taking Highgarden, and she spent hours poring over the large map in Tywin's vast library.

She traced the pathway he would take until she knew it by heart.

Crakehall.

Oakheart.

Highgarden.

When word had come that Jaime had taken Oakheart without shedding any blood, Sansa announced it in Casterly Rock's Great Hall. She worked tirelessly to rebuild Jaime's reputation with those here, and with each victory, she knew that their love for the Golden Lion grew.

Even Arya and Sandor were impressed when Sansa read the raven about his negotiations with Baelor Hightower and the fact that House Lannister and House Tully now had Highgarden.

"My uncle will appreciate the gold," Sansa murmured while thinking about what it meant to have fifty new ships at the harbour in Lannisport. She wished she could travel there, but one look from Sandor had stopped that notion.

"Leave it to Jaime," was all he said. It was too dangerous for her to leave the keep.

Arya had taken to training with the men, along with Dacey. The woman from Bear Island and Arya had become particularly close, and Sansa loved the bond that they had developed.

Sansa prepared the Rock to welcome Qyburn. Jaime explained that he would be in charge of mounting the scorpions, and while Sansa could appreciate Jaime's worry about the dragons, she wondered at his trust in the man. Sansa knew that Qyburn had been loyal to Cersei in their previous lifetime.

Sansa wept when word came from Lord Royce about Brienne. Of course, she did this alone, since no one here would understand why this might upset Sansa. In this timeline, she'd never met Brienne.

Her uncle Edmure wrote that they had tried to track the Brotherhood without Banners, but to no avail, and they were almost sure that Catelyn was no longer in the Riverlands.

Robb's raven contained all the information about Winterfell, including the fact that Ramsay had retreated to the Dreadfort when he heard what had happened to his father. Greatjon Umber had secured Rickon at Last Hearth and with the gold that Sansa sent back up the River Road and then North, Robb would have Winterfell restored within a year.

Sansa was grateful for the sheer amount of work and effort it took to run a castle the size of the Rock because she was lonely. She missed her husband.

Jaime was her best friend, her confidant, her world, and with him gone, she retreated into herself more and more. She spent hours at Tywin's huge desk, reading books from his impressive collection. She stared at the map, willing her husband to a quick victory and often could be found having fallen asleep over the ledgers.

Her babies grew, and she became larger, passing the fifth month effortlessly. The Maester had confirmed that she was pregnant with twins, and spoke to her about Lady Joanna's birth of Jaime and Cersei. He warned her as she got further into the pregnancy, she would become even more tired, and also to expect the babies sooner than when there was just one.

Sansa wasn't scared to give birth; she'd attended several when she lived in Winterfell, and her mother had five healthy babies. But she did want her husband here for when the time came, and spent hours in front of the tiny heart tree praying to the old gods to return her husband to her.

Sansa was napping in her bed in their room when Arya burst in one afternoon with a raven from Jaime. Everyone knew that Sansa was happier when she'd heard from Jaime, and while Arya would never pretend to understand married couples, she knew her sister loved Jaime and was missing him.

Sansa struggled to sit up, and then read the words, twice, feeling like she might be ill.

Joffrey had arrested the Lannister's that remained in King's Landing, putting Tywin in the black cells and Cersei and Tyrion under arrest in their bedchambers. Sansa felt ill.

She knew precisely what Joffrey would do to Tywin.

Sansa had tried to explain just how twisted, and cruel Joffrey was to Jaime, but she knew it was hard for him to comprehend. He hadn't been in the throne room when Joff's eyes glittered as she had been tormented and humiliated.

For two weeks, the entire Rock was in mourning, worried that the Great Lion would not escape the clutches of his evil grandson, stunned that the King had turned on the house that had given him his victory over Stannis. There was outrage at his audacity, and all were in agreement that this was an insult that could not stand.

Sansa reassured everyone that Joffrey would pay for this action, and to trust Jaime and the steps he would take to avenge his father. It was hearing her speak passionately not only about Jaime, her husband, but the Great Lion himself that fully won the people of the Westerlands to Sansa's side. The idea that Tywin was now in Joffrey's clutches made Sansa's veins ice, and she wished she could be with Jaime as he tried to get to King's Landing.

There was only the barest relief when the next raven arrived detailing the escape of Tywin and Tyrion, the torture, the fact that half of Jaime's family was barely alive. Sansa had been physically ill when she'd read about the torture that Tywin had been subjected too and heartily agreed with Jaime's assessment to send his father back to the Rock.

_From what I can gather, Cersei refused to leave, which means she is either still playing the game, or she cannot see Joffrey for what he is. The torture of my father, Sansa, it makes me ill. His own grandson did this to him, and she knows it. How can she stay?_

The pain in Jaime's words was palpable, and Sansa wished there was something she could do. When they'd first come back to this period, they had discussed Joffrey's death; it was inevitable. But now? To think that Cersei had chosen Joffrey over her family, Sansa knew that would hurt Jaime in a way few could understand.

It was the next raven that Sansa received when she knew that Joffrey had truly sealed his fate.

The shaky handwriting indicated how emotional Jaime was feeling. Jaime wrote how he tried to get her back, promising that he hadn't wanted her at the Rock, but somewhere in the West, and that he'd been willing to trade Willas for Cersei.

_He had her head taken in front of me, Sansa. His own mother, without hesitation. He is the monster everyone says. Not even kinslaying had stayed his hand. Tyrion hovers between life and death, Cersei is gone, and my father might never be the man he was. How can one person be responsible for the obliteration of my family? _

Sansa held the raven, too in shock to react.

Joffrey had killed his own mother? It was impossible to believe, even knowing the type of person he was. Things such as that just didn't happen. Cersei had dedicated her entire life to see her son on the throne. Her son, Sansa realized, who had no idea who his father was.

_I fear what I will do, sweet wife, when I breach the castle walls and find the King. I know the heavy mantle that is borne by one who kills their King, even if that King is mad, cruel and vicious. _

_He will never stop, Sansa. He will come for you, for our children, for my father, for me. I know, more than I did with Aerys, what my path is, and I loathe to admit my impatience to see this task done. The need for vengeance against what was done to my family is hot in my blood, in my heart, beating a rhythm I cannot ignore. I pray you do not judge me too harshly, my love, for the choices I am to make._

_My vow to you is that I will ensure that if they call me Kingslayer again, the realm will know._

_Those in the North, the West, the East, the South will know. They will understand why I took the actions I did, and it will not touch our children. _

_When he is dead, I am free to return to you, to our children, to my home, at least for a time. I cannot wait to touch you, kiss you, hold you. You are my_ _only light in these dark times; my touchstone when I feel there is nothing good left in this wretched world. _

_I am, as always, yours._

_Jaime _

Sansa was concerned about how seeing Cersei killed in such a way would affect Jaime.

Tywin was still a week from the Rock, and Tyrion had not yet awoken from the infection that ravaged his body.

And now this.

The Queen mother was dead, killed on orders from her son.

"Oh Jaime," Sansa whispered, her entire body aching for what he must be going through. Sansa did not doubt Jaime's love for her, nor did she deny he still loved Cersei as his sister, as his family.

Sansa's heart broke for her husband, and she cursed that she was here, and he there when it was clear that he needed her. The image of him watching his twin die by his son's hand was almost too horrific to contemplate. That, coupled with Tywin's torture and Tyrion's uncertain fate, and Sansa could feel Jaime's anguish.

Others saw it as well; Sandor, Genna, Dorna. They knew what this would do to Jaime, and it felt like House Lannister was under attack in a way it had rarely ever been.

"This is madness," Genna whispered, the quietest Sansa had ever heard her.

"He won't stop."

Everyone looked at her.

"Jaime. My husband. He will never stop until he avenges what was done to his family."

"And you, Lady Sansa? Are you ready to be Queen?"

Sansa swallowed hard, thinking back too when she and Tywin had discussed such matters. It had been months ago, and it had seemed like such a far off possibility, but Sansa knew that if Jaime emerged victoriously, he would be named King of the seven kingdoms.

"I am."

Sansa didn't want the crown or the throne because of a lust for power. She hardly wanted it at all. Being here, at the rock, she would be perfectly content to spend the rest of her days in the West, raising their children and laughing with Jaime.

But Sansa knew what was coming.

Jaime knew what was coming.

Not just an army of the dead, but dragons as well.

All she could do was pray and hope that he returned to her soon, victorious. Sansa knew that should Jaime fail, and the King would turn his attention to Casterly Rock. Joffrey was in open war with the West, the Riverlands, the Vale and the North. The dye had been cast. Either Jaime would take the Iron Throne, thus assuring a new reign in Westeros, or Joffrey would keep his crown. If Jaime did emerge victorious, their reign would be markedly different from Joffrey’s. It would be a reign in which they could do whatever was in their power to restore peace to Westeros, to usher in a new era of prosperity and beat back all those which seek to harm them.

_ Jaime – King's Landing _

The moment Jaime returned to his tent, he dismissed everyone. He could not abide by the looks of pity and sympathy on their faces. It was not their twin, not their sister that had been murdered in front of their eyes.

For so long, so very, very long, he and Cersei had always just been. He had done horrible, awful things for her, for them. He'd loved her, more than anyone else in the realm and had given up his rightful place as his father's heir to be with her. When he'd gone north, to fight for the living, he'd never expected to find Sansa, to find love. To know what a love that wasn't tainted was.

Jaime had known from almost the moment he'd been back that Joffrey couldn't live. He'd known that, spoke at length with Sansa about it, thought he'd made his peace with it.

But he never expected his son to turn on them, to kill his own mother and torture his grandfather. It had been beyond anything Jaime could have conceived that Joff would do.

Jaime knew that Cersei had her chance to escape and hadn't taken it. He wanted to believe it was because she loved Joffrey and couldn't abandon him, but deep down, in a place that demanded honesty, Jaime knew that she stayed because she believed Joffrey still held power in Westeros. His sister had been mad for power, almost as much as the Tyrells.

Even in their other timeline, Jaime had seen his sister willing to sacrifice everything to sit on the Iron Throne. Being near that chair made Jaime ill, and if he did succeed in removing Joffrey, he would have the thing melted for scrap.

He was done.

Done with the Iron Throne.

Done with the madness that vile chair inspired.

Done with death and war and politics and all of it.

He wanted his wife, his children and the Rock.

Of course, even Jaime wasn't naïve enough to think he could kill a second King and not take the mantle for himself. And he would do so, but only with Sansa by his side. She was what Westeros needed; what would restore order, and balance and peace.

Jaime poured himself out to her in the raven, for once the words coming quickly and without scrambling in his brain. He needed her to know that despite the pain of losing his twin, she was, and always would be, his love. The best and brightest thing in his life. When that was done, and only then, did Jaime allow others in to his tent, to plot their attack.

There was no question of if they would attack; only when.

It would begin in three days.

Jaime meant to take King's Landing or die trying. He'd pay his son back, in blood and death from the horror Joffrey had inflicted on Jaime's family. And when that was done, Jaime would rush back to the Rock, to be with Sansa, to be with his love. To be with the only person who could soothe his soul and make this ache that was lodged in his body better.

* * *

Jaime had guaranteed nothing when they had set their plan in motion.

Not that he wouldn't take the King's head himself.

Not that he would give Joff and the Tyrell's a fair trial.

Not that he would even take the damn Iron Throne.

He was solely focused on the vengeance that hummed through his body. He needed Joffrey dead, and he'd deal with everything else once that happened.

If Jaime had been able to feel anything but anger, he'd have been delighted when his plan worked to perfection. A small group infiltrated King's Landing, moving swiftly past the Tyrell army and opening the Gate of the Gods to allow Royce and part of the Lannister army entry there. Addam had been in charge of that foray, and the man, ever loyal to House Lannister, had conducted himself admirably.

Drawn by the fact, the walls had been breached, those that had been stationed south, at the King's Gate where Jaime waited, left, fearing that the attack was coming from the North.

Jaime's army made short work of the King's Gate and flooded inside the Red Keep, driving hard and fast over the meagre forces that awaited them.

From there, they fought their way towards the Red Keep itself, up Aegon's High Hill, through the twisted streets and deeper and deeper until they ran up against the city watch and some of the most loyal Tyrell forces.

Jaime arrived then, having fought side by side with his men, his skill apparent and awe-inspiring.

Jaime suspected that House Tarly would never bend from their pledge to Olenna, but several of the City Watch were men from the West.

"He cannot win," Jaime said, voice almost lazy as he glanced at them. "You cannot win. I have the numbers."

Jaime knew it was true; it had been a rout. The Tyrell forces hadn't stood a chance.

No one moved.

"Some of you are from the West. You know what the King did the Great Lion. He had him tortured, beaten, bled. For what? For being loyal? For ending the War of the Five Kings? This is how House Baratheon repays the loyalty of the West?"

Jaime saw movement and pressed on.

"Lay down your weapons and go home; back to your wives and children, mothers and grandmothers. You served, and your loyalty is noted, but it is no longer required."

There was a paused, and then hundreds of men did as Jaime suggested, shuffling warily past the Lannister and Tully army. When no move was made to hurt them, an all-out mutiny occurred, until only House Tarly stood between Jaime and the King.

"You cannot win," Jaime said to Randyll, who met his steely gaze.

"I can take you to hell with me," the man snarled, and Jaime sighed, sliding off his horse.

He just wanted this done, and he'd always been a better swordsman than the man from the Reach. The man unsheathed Heartsbane, and Jaime had a moment to think it would be lovely to have such a sword when the army of the dead came for them, knowing what Valyrian steel did to the White Walkers from Jon Snow. Then all thoughts were blessedly driven from his mind, as Jaime channelled the rage at watching Cersei die by Joff's hands into the fight.

The lord from High Hill was good; Jaime was better. When the killing blow struck Randyll Tarly's neck, he dropped to his knees, clutching at his throat and then fell over. Jaime barely spared him a glance, just nodded at Kevan. There would be no quarter for those who remained, and a few hours later, the Lions were victorious as Jaime, the Blackfish, Kevan and Daven rushed towards the Throne Room. Jaime knew that this was where Joffrey would be, keeping back his most loyal and vicious Kingsguard members.

Jaime was prepared to go through every one of them; single-handedly, if needs be, although, with his loyal friends at his side, he knew this would not be the case.

And since when did men, good men, like Kevan and Brynden Tully follow Jaime? Not only support him but become men he could count as his friends. Jaime had always been alone in this life. First because of his actions in the very room he was about to enter, and then to keep his and Cersei’s secret safe. He realized now, that he was not lonely, not with those loyal to him by his side. And something fierce swelled in him to think he’d earned their respect.

They pushed open the massive doors to the hall, which shockingly were not barred, to see a scene that was eerily familiar to Jaime.

Joffrey was dead, that much was clear, slumped at the base of the Iron Throne, his face moulted and purple with blood caking his nose and mouth.

His guards, those vicious dogs that were loyal to him, were dead as well, and there was enough blood to turn even Jaime's strong stomach.

Who was not dead was Olenna, Mace and Margaery Tyrell, and it was at that moment that understanding dawned on Jaime. House Tyrell meant to take the throne for themselves; without Joffrey.

"You are in the presence of the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms," Olenna started to say, and Jaime snorted. His sword was wet with blood, his armour speckled with more gore and his body finally draining from the exhaustion of fighting his way here. He had no patience for lies, from her mouth or the so-called Queen. Jaime would take Margaery’s head here and now and sit his arse on the throne if that was required to shut Olenna Tyrell up.

They had stolen from him, these roses.

They had tried to murder his wife.

They had robbed him of his vengeance for his father, his brother his sister.

"She is no Queen; not now, not ever."

Olenna's eyes flared wide with anger. "She is the Queen."

"She is a whore who would have fucked anyone to sit on that throne. Her reign is over. Seize her."

Jaime turned, so tired and done with all this shit. He'd hold a trial for them, find them guilty and take their heads. Then it would be done and the conquest complete.

"Ser Jaime," Margaery said as Lannister guards surged forward to place her under arrest. "Surely, there is some compromise we can come to. I enacted vengeance for House Lannister after what the King did."

Jaime stopped and turned back, incredulous. He could scarcely believe her nerve. She looked cheap, whorish and shallow compared to Sansa, the true Queen that the realm needed.

"You are a bold one, Lady Margaery; I'll give you that. But you are no Queen. You attempted to murder my wife. You tried to marry Renly Baratheon, from what I've heard, and it would have been the shortest dynasty in Westeros as he was fucking your brother Loras. And then, with no other option, you married him."

Jaime's eyes drifted down to his son. His dead son. His dead son, who had murdered his mother. And now the bitch was trying to claim that there would be a compromise? No. Never.

"Tell me, what did you do to stop the King from torturing my father?"

Margaery paled as two men in Lannister armour held her. Olenna and Mace were also under Lannister control.

"This is treason!" Olenna spat.

Jaime turned to her.

"No, my Lady, this is victory. My army destroyed yours. This is taking the Iron Throne by conquest."

With that, Jaime stalked from the room, needing to see what had been done with his father's thing. He trusted the others to complete an orderly transition from Stag to Lion for the Throne. Denied his vengeance, all Jaime wanted was to get this finished and go to Casterly Rock with his wife.

He collapsed into a chair in his father's study; Joffrey had not had time to appoint a new hand. He would pack everything here and in Cersei's chambers and send it home. Exhaustion settled heavy over Jaime's body as his eyes closed.

It was done.

Joffrey was dead.

He would be named King.

He snorted, eyes still closed when he thought about how hard he'd fought to not even been named of Casterly Rock. But he knew what was coming for them, knew this was a small battle in the greater war. He had the Blackfish and Lord Royce on his side, two extraordinary competent men. His father was alive.

_Things had to be better now, didn't they? The choices they made were the correct ones, were they not?_

Jaime wished for Sansa so desperately at that moment and opened his eyes to find parchment and quill. She needed to know she was now Queen.

And that he missed her.

Gods, how he missed her. It was a constant physical ache to be away from his wife, his heart, his love.

His father would be days away from arriving back home, and Jaime wished to be with both of them, but for now, his place was here.

Wearily, he righted himself and began his message to his wife, to his Queen, his bright star in these dark times.

_ Sansa – Casterly Rock _

Sansa was waiting in the central courtyard for the arrival of the Great Lion.

She had received Jaime's raven four days ago, speaking of his victory in King's Landing, the death of Joffrey at the hands of his wife, the annihilation of the Tyrell army and the arrest of Olenna, Mace and Margaery.

_I will not wait, wife, for a trial. I mean to make this transition to power complete, and they will have to pay for their actions. It grieves me to report that while I was away sacking King's Landing, Willas Tyrell was killed. I have held the men responsible for his safety to account, although it pained me to do so. Both Kevan and your Uncle assured me my actions were for the best. _

_There was a brief coronation with the Lords of the Realm with the Vale, the Riverlands, the West, the Reach and, of course, the North proclaiming for me. Robb seems to have settled into Winterfell, although, as I'm sure you are aware, there is no news about Bran, and Ramsay is still inside the Dreadfort. He thanked me profusely for the gold, to which I assume you sent and well done at that, and sounded excited for his sister to be Queen._

_I know this was not our plan, wife, but you will be magnificent in the role. Once our children are born, we will come back here for a proper ceremony befitting our new station. For now, the days are endless, with tasks that need accomplishing. Joffrey and Cersei were not a service to the seven kingdoms. I thank all the gods that my father was here to start putting things right in the past few months, else I shudder to think of how bad things might have been. _

_I miss you, Sansa, each moment I draw breath, and I count the days until I am with you again. _

_Your loving husband, who misses you like mad,_

_Jaime._

Sansa was not ashamed to admit that she slept with his ravens under her pillow, tracing her finger over his name, again and again. It hurt to be apart from him, in ways she hadn't anticipated when he'd set out for Highgarden.

She could scarcely believe she was now Queen and married to a man that she loved.

A good man.

A kind man.

A brave man.

Now she awaited the Great Lion, knowing that he would require extensive help to be nursed back to health. Sansa did not intend to rule these bickering regions without him by her side. Tywin Lannister might instill fear in many, but he was a brilliant hand and an asset to the Crown.

Sansa had ordered no ceremony for his return. She knew that this occasion did not call for it. When Tywin had been sent home from the capital, the status of his health had been unclear, only that he was in bad shape. As it was, only Genna, Dorna and Maester Creylon awaited his arrival. Sansa thanked the seven gods that he was too weak to order Sandor to be sent away; that was sure to be a battle.

Arya had made herself scarce. She had not yet divulged to Sansa that she knew Tywin, that she had been his cupbearer. Sansa knew, of course, from when she and Arya had spoken at Winterfell, but in this timeline, it was still her sister's secret. The only thing that Sansa had managed to extract from Arya was a promise that she would not kill him.

When the carriage pulled into the courtyard, men rushed forward with a litter. Sansa approached first, sensing that Tywin would want very few to see him so weak. It was late, and she and Tommen were the only ones in the family quarters so he would have total privacy.

As she opened the door, Sansa schooled her features not to gasp. This was not the same man that had been so intimidating, so commanding in King's Landing. His features were sunken and grey, and his green-gold eyes dimmed, his frame almost skeletal. He was clearly in a great deal of pain, and his breathing laboured.

His skin was bruised and scarred, and Sansa knew from her tortures just how painful it was to move.

She gave him a curt nod. "Lord Tywin."

"Lady Sansa."

She stepped back and made a motion until the men had Tywin on the litter. It was clear he would have been unable to walk, even if his dignity suffered. Quickly and silently, they moved through the Rock, and Sansa swore she saw him relax the closer they came to his chambers. When they got to the family rooms, Sansa dismissed Genna and Dorna.

"He's my brother," Genna hissed at her.

"And I am the Lady of the Rock. Go. Now."

Tywin snorted, and Sansa would have grinned if she hadn't been locked in a battle of wills with Tywin's sister.

"Now that he is back, the Rock is no longer yours, Lady Sansa," Genna said, twirling in a flourish and hurrying away. Dorna simply squeezed her hand.

"Call if you need help, my dear." Kevan's wife was a godsend, and Sansa had come to care for her deeply. Turning back, Sansa eyed Tywin.

"I take it you have no objections with regards to your sister?"

He grunted, and they brought him into the bathing chambers. Sansa knew this would be the most painful part, but Creylon assured her it was required.

"He needs to be clean," was all he said.

Sansa slipped out, into her adjoining chambers, and reread the ravens from Jaime, keeping her mind off what Tywin must be going through. She sent him one a day, writing about mundane things at the Rock. He said he loved them and that they helped him immensely, so she wrote until her hand cramped.

Two hours later, a discreet knock on her door sounded, and Sansa slipped into the adjacent bedchamber, seeing that Tywin was clean, bandaged and clothed, sitting against his headboard in his massive bed.

"My Lord," she said, curtsying to him.

He snorted, and even though his voice was weak, he gave her a look. "Tell me, have I been a prisoner for that long that the Queen of the seven kingdoms bows to the Lord of Casterly Rock?"

Sansa smiled and rose to her full height, keeping her hands on her rounded stomach where her children grew.

"How did you know?"

"You think House Lannister taking the throne could be kept a secret as I travelled home? They are besides themselves with joy, Sansa, that Jaime has ousted the evil Baratheon King."

Sansa nodded to Tywin's steward, who was there was a meal for him, and he dragged a chair closer to Tywin's bed, so they could speak as he supped.

"What else do you know?"

Tywin grimaced. "Not much. I was drugged most of the way home."

Sansa nodded and sighed.

"I'm not some green boy, Sansa. Tell me."

She met his eyes, pleased to see that while they weren't as bright as they had been, they were no longer clouded in pain. Being home agreed with Tywin.

"Tyrion slipped into a deep sleep after he rescued you. He was stabbed, and an infection has taken root. They tried to get it all, but for now, he lingers between life and death."

Tywin grunted. "It was he who rescued me."

Sansa nodded as she saw Tywin grimace. There was a world of hatred between the two of them, and she didn't want to discuss that tonight.

"What else?" His eyes were guarded. "Cersei?"

As much as Sansa hated Cersei, she understood that she was Tywin's daughter. His daughter from his beloved wife. Sansa had come to realize just how deeply Tywin had loved Joanna since being at the Rock.

"Tyrion and Varys both said that she was given a chance to escape when he came for you. She refused."

Tywin swallowed hard, and Sansa saw him clutch at the blankets.

"Jaime would have…"

Sansa reached for his hand and held it. "Jaime tried. He offered Willas for her. Joffrey cut her head off in front of Jaime and threw her body from the ramparts."

Tywin sucked in a deep, painful breath. "She was a fool to have stayed. She had no control over him."

"She allowed Tyrion to save you, but yes, it appears she felt she could still influence the King."

"And Jaime?"

Sansa met Tywin's eyes. "My husband was devastated by the loss of his twin, of his sister. But he did his duty. They routed the Tyrell forces and took back the Iron Throne, My Lord."

The tears in Tywin's eyes were unexpected, but Sansa understood. For so long, Jaime had denied his true place as Tywin's heir. Now he was the King.

"Joffrey?"

"Poisoned by the Tyrells." Sansa gave a sour look. "Jaime had them arrested, and their trial is set to begin soon. It will be quick and just, Tywin. We are not needed."

Tywin nodded, and Sansa could see he was in pain.

"Drink the potion your Maester has made for you. You are home, My Lord." Sansa rose and then leaned over and pressed a kiss to Tywin's forehead.

"Thank you."

Their eyes met, and Tywin saw that Sansa knew precisely why he had allowed himself to be imprisoned and torture. "He is my blood, Sansa, as are those lions in your belly. I would do anything for him, for them, for my House."

She shook her head, unsure if she'd ever met a man more devoted to his family than the Great Lion.

"It is the family name that lives on Sansa. It is the only thing that lives on. When I saw you with him, when I saw how much he loved you, I knew our house had been saved."

His voice was weak at the end.

"Rest," Sansa ordered softly, and for the first time since his wife had been alive, the Great Lion allowed a woman to order him about.

Tywin was asleep before Sansa left the room and she closed the door softly. When she crawled into bed, she pulled on one of Jaime's tunics, wrapping herself as best she could in her husband.

And then she wept.

For all of them and this world in which they lived, filled with so much pain and turmoil. Even now, the familiar sound of the crashing waves did little to sooth Sansa's heart that hurt beyond all measure for the lions she loved and the pain that they were going through.

* * *

It was two weeks before Tywin finally began to demand that he be allowed to move around the Rock. The damage to him had been extensive, and his pain levels so great that he hadn't allowed anyone but Sansa, the Maester, his steward and a few select servants into his chambers.

One afternoon, when he had been particularly snappish about having his bandages changed, Sansa threw down her needlework and pinned him with a glare.

"These men are trying to help you," she said, exasperation lacing her every word.

He glared at her, and she glared right back.

"What can a high born lady such as yourself possibly know about what I went through?" It was said with a petulant tone of a child that had been denied a sweet. Sansa knew he was just upset at his torture, his pain, his limited range of motion, but still, his words cut.

Sansa froze. She knew that Tywin had been told of Joffrey's treatment of her, and while it had been awful, it was child's play compared to what Ramsay had done to her.

By now, there were two trusted handmaidens at the Rock that Sansa had, that had seen her scarring as well as Creylon. The Maester would be the man responsible for bringing her children safely into this world, and she had shown him the damage done to her body so that he would not overreact when the time came for their birth.

Now, the man who had become a trusted confidant of Sansa's gave her a knowing look. Of course, Tywin did not miss the silent communication between them.

Sansa rose and nodded and then dismissed everyone but her good father and Creylon from the room.

"I know a thing or two about torture," was all she said, disappearing into her chambers, only to return wearing a long robe, a tunic of Jaime's and slippers.

Tywin was eyeing her owlishly from his bed. The fight of today had been his insistence that he was healed enough to begin to walk through the Rock. Both Sansa and Creylon had disagreed, having just closed some of the more gruesome burns and deeper lacerations on his body.

With a nod to the Maester, Sansa turned so that Tywin could see her back and dropped the robe. She had put Jaime's tunic on backwards, to the part that was usually in the front, gaped open along her back, showing in perfect detail the marks that had been left on her.

Since her back was to Tywin, she couldn't see his face but heard his shocked gasp.

"Lady Sansa is familiar with what is required for you to heal properly, My Lord," Creylon said, faint disapproval in his voice. When Sansa had first shown the Maester, the man had wept for her.

"Enough," Tywin snarled, and Sansa pulled the robe up and turned to him, arching an elegant eyebrow.

He looked murderous. "Who did this to you?"

"I was betrayed by someone I trusted, My Lord. That is all you need to know."

He hissed out a breath.

"Unlike you, I was not afforded the same medical care to heal. You are doing a disservice to both of us if you continue to fight against what is best for you."

"They took parts of me, Sansa. Cut them away from me as if I were a pig, to be butchered. I was nothing more but a sack of flesh for their cruel amusements."

Sansa suppressed a shudder as she recalled the joy Ramsay got from hurting her, from making her scream. She knew all too well what it was like to be kept but those who took pleasure in pain. Part of her wished she could tell Tywin everything that was done to her at her husband's hands, but it was an impossibility. So instead, she settled on Jaime and what he had been through.

"Your son had his sword hand cut from his body because he attempted to stop a rape. They gave him nothing for the pain, and then tied the limb around his neck, allowing the flesh to rot in front of him. Only when he was almost delirious with fever, did they finally seek medical help for him."

Tywin looked away, his face open and exposed; vulnerable and needy. Sansa wondered how many had ever seen this powerful man in such a state.

"I thought I would die; I wished for it somedays when the torture did not seem to end." His voice was but a whisper as if he were confessing some great crime, wanting his pain to end.

Sansa thought about Ramsay and how he'd shove into her, determine to inflict as much pain as possible in their bedchamber. She knew what it was like to wish for such hurt to stop.

"I know what that is like, Tywin."

His green-gold eyes met hers again. "I believe you."

"Please heal. I have promised the King, your son, that I am taking proper care of you. If you make a liar out of me, he'll be cross with the both of us."

Tywin snorted. "That man is so in love with you I doubt he's been upset with you a day since you two met."

Sansa's lips twitched. Tywin Lannister had a dry and biting wit, one that he allowed to surface only rarely, but it amused her to no end when he allowed it to surface.

"Yes, he is quite devoted to me."

Another snort. "That's an understatement. Do you know how long I tried to get him to marry?"

Sansa rolled her eyes. "Pity if I don't share your lament, considering how much I am in love with him. It would have been quite off-putting if I'd had to get rid of a wife to have him for myself."

Tywin threw his head back and laughed, the sound deep and rich.

The Great Lion heard, daily, from his steward, his sister, his Maester and all manner of servants, just how loved Jaime's wife was. The people of the Westerlands had fully embraced her, and in turn, she loved them back. She worked each day tirelessly, despite her pregnancy and fatigue and had even, somehow, brought Lady Lefford around to her side by extending an invitation to the woman that held the Tooth to come and visit now that war was over.

There was talk that when Jaime returned, there would be a grand celebration; the West had never had a King on the Iron Throne, and the fact that it was their Golden Lion had excited people beyond all measure. They loved Jaime's Queen, perhaps not as much as Jaime himself, but enough that Tywin knew it had been a brilliant match, and one he could hardly take credit for. Sansa and Jaime themselves had all but orchestrated their marriage, so in love with one another that they'd caused quite the scandal a few months ago.

The ships, promised by House Hightower, had begun to arrive in the harbour at Lannisport, and Jaime wrote that he wanted to take the Arbor next. Baelor Hightower was angling for a position as Master of Ships and Lord of Highgarden and hated that the Redwyne's had the largest navy.

So did Tywin, and the idea of either sinking or seizing the Redwyne navy had him all but salivating. They had wisely stayed on their island when Olenna called her banners, content with their grapes and their ships and their place in the Reach. Tywin had given the Paxter a remission on his taxes when they'd been in an alliance, but that was done, and Jaime wrote the man had been seized and placed under guard while they 'negotiated' what was to become of his fleet.

Tywin's pride and confidence in Jaime grew by the raven.

The trial for the Tyrell's was scheduled to begin within the fortnight, and once completed, Jaime planned to come home.

Tyrion had woken for a few days but had slipped back into his deep sleep, and they were still uncertain of his prognosis.

More than anything, Tywin was sick of being in bed. It grated when there was so much happening in the West. He wanted to be fully in charge of the Rock, to help Sansa and to capitalize on this incredible opportunity that Jaime had seized for House Lannister.

But he was weak and still in pain, and he knew that he was nowhere near the strength he needed to be an effective ruler.

And he was a man that abhorred weakness.

"At least tell me when I can go and sit in my study and get out of this blasted room?" he snarled, and his Maester, who in Tywin's opinion looked far too much to Sansa, held up one finger.

"A day?"

"A week."

"Three days."

"Five."

"Four."

Sighing, the man nodded. "But only for a few hours."

Tywin was almost giddy with relief; it was something. Not that he minded the time he spent with Sansa. She was, as he'd discovered in King's Landing, an extortionary woman. Tywin had loved his wife, some argued too much, but even he could see how Sansa was perfectly suited to being the Queen. She had seamlessly fit herself into the running of the Rock and indeed was its mistress. Tywin knew it was sentimental drivel, but it felt warmer here than it had in years having a woman such as her back in charge.

And the idea that she was pregnant with not one but two heirs made him almost giddy. It was a bounty he'd scarce imagined for his son.

Of course, his other grandson, Tommen, had finally been allowed to come and visit him. The boy spent hours with him, fascinated by his tales and teachings, and Tywin, unable to do anything more than move from bed to chair, poured hours into his education. He had been negligent with Joffrey, and they had all seen what had happened there. Tommen would be loyal to House Lannister and beloved by the lions of the Rock.

"It's incredible," Tywin muttered one afternoon as Tommen hurried out of the room to go look for his cat.

"What is, Tywin?"

After weeks of spending each day together, they had abandoned all titles with one another.

They were Tywin and Sansa, two people dedicated to seeing their House retain power and position for as long as possible, to seeing Jaime and Sansa reign for a very long time and to ensure that the heirs that Sansa birthed would have a world to inherit in which they were at the very pinnacle of Westeros society.

"That he is related to Joffrey."

Sansa hummed her agreement and passed him a raven. They were seated at his massive desk, working on some of the endless ledgers and correspondence that came with running a keep this size.

"Oh, that reminds me. Jaime sent this."

Tywin took the raven and read it over. Then he grunted. "Good."

Jaime had sent for Myrcella to be returned from Dorne. Dorne had balked initially. Jaime argued she was no longer a princess of the realm, and not quite the prize Doran had once thought. Negotiations were ongoing. Dorne wanted Ser Gregor, and Jaime had men scouring the Riverlands for the monster. Tywin didn't love the idea of losing his loyal man, but Myrcella was worth more than a Clegane.

"So, you want to break your fast with the others tomorrow morning?" Sansa asked, laying down her quill.

She had a funny look on her face, and Tywin could read her instantly. She was hiding something from him. He would put up with no secrets from, not in his own house. He didn't give a damn if she was the Queen; here, he ruled.

"What is it?"

She gave him a look, one he knew well, and then spoke. "Sandor Clegane is here."

Tywin sputtered, almost choking on his wine. "What in seven fucking hells is that man doing here?"

Sansa rolled her eyes at him and handed him a cloth to clean himself. "He's my guard, Tywin."

"Why?" he snarled, slamming his fist down on the table.

"Because he protected me when no others did. Because no one would dare challenge him. Because he kept my sister safe."

Tywin's eyes narrowed. "Your sister?"

"Hmmm, yes. Arya. He found her in the Riverlands, tangled up with the Brothers Without Banners."

"The Hound?" Tywin's voice was incredulous.

"Yes. The Hound."

"He abandoned his King."

Sansa gave him a look that had Tywin reconsidering. Perhaps the Hound had been right about Joffrey after all.

She leaned forward. "Sandor Clegane is loyal, Tywin."

"To whom?"

"To Jaime and me."

Before Tywin could say anything more, a knock on the door sounded, and Sansa stood.

"Lady Arya Stark, Your Grace," Tywin's steward said to Sansa as a small dark-haired woman slipped into his chambers.

Tywin struggled to rise. "What is seven hells are you doing with my cupbearer, Sansa?"

Tywin had very few occasions to feel like a fool in his life, but the look Sansa gave him made him feel like one twice over.

He looked at Arya Stark, his cupbearer, whose father clearly wasn't a stonemason from House Dustin and then to his good daughter.

He'd had the Stark girl in his possession. And he'd let her slip away. He was an idiot.

"We need to clear the air," Sansa said and looked between the two of them. "Arya, take a seat."

She was eyeing them both warily.

Sansa huffed out an impatient breath. "Oh, for god sakes, no one is going to force you to do anything you don't want to Arya. I am the Queen of the seven kingdoms."

"He's on my list, Sansa."

"What list?" Tywin demanded.

Arya glared at him, and Tywin was reminded why he'd liked her so much at Harrenhal. She had pluck. She titled her chin when she spoke to him, insolent chit.

"My list of people I'm going to kill."

Sansa rolled her eyes. "Well, Sandor was on your list as well, and now you're thick as thieves." Sansa levelled a look at Arya. "Sit."

Arya flung herself into a chair. "How can you be nice to him, Sansa? We were at war with him. Do you know how he spoke about Robb?"

"Well, the Wolf took his pound of flesh, didn't he, here in the West?" Tywin snarled back at her.

Arya grinned. "Yeah, he was wonderful."

"A pain in the arse."

"He had you chasing your tail."

"He was rushing into the lion's jaws."

Arya snorted.

Tywin glared.

Sansa pinched her nose between her eyes, trying to ward off the headache these two would surely cause her. She missed her husband. Her loving, adorable, incorrigible husband. Who most likely would have locked Tywin and Arya in a room together and not given a single fuck if they worked things out.

"Enough," Sansa said, a weary sigh leaving her lips. "That was then; now, we are allies. More than allies, we are family."

The glares were enough to freeze ice. Sansa was done. She was hugely pregnant, lonely, and now Queen of a warring nation. She didn't have time for such pettiness.

"I know this is difficult for the two of you to comprehend, but there are bigger threats to us and our alliance than the two of you. Daenerys Targaryen believes the throne to be hers. She has three dragons. Need I remind the two of you what happened the last time the Targaryen's invaded Westeros with dragons?"

Both looked slightly less hostile.

"There is also Stannis Baratheon, a man with a single-minded determinedness to claim the throne. I doubt Jaime's right of conquest argument in taking the Iron Throne from the Tyrell's will hold much sway with him. Dorne hates House Lannister, and in the North, we have Ramsay Bolton wreaking havoc, while an army of wildlings seeks to breach the Wall and spill into the Gift. We are seriously undermanned there, and if we don't send help, Castle Black will be overrun."

Sansa did not mention the Night King or the White Walkers or the Army of the Dead. Not yet.

Both Tywin and Arya were staring at her.

"Do you think Jaime or I care one bit about the Iron Throne? That we would not choose to live our lives here, safe and uncaring while others tore each other apart for that chair?"

Sansa saw she held their attention.

"We took the Throne because we need to be united to face our enemies. If we are not, Daenerys will pick us apart and burn us in our beds when we sleep."

Tywin coughed and gave a slight indication of his head. "You are correct."

Sansa pinned her sister with a look.

"I still don't understand how you can trust them," she groused, and Sansa was reminded how poor Arya was at politics. She had taken Jon's advice to stick them with the pointy end too literally.

"Arya, we cannot hope to defeat what is coming for us without an alliance system. My husband loves me; you know this. And Tywin was tortured by the King. If we cannot trust our allies, our friends, then our enemies have already won."

Tywin's cold green eyes met Arya's. "I liked you when you were my cupbearer."

"Had you known who I was, you would have used me for your own gain," she shot back, not giving an inch.

"And had you had the means, you would have slit my throat."

Their gazes held until finally, Arya nodded. Then she grinned. "Now, we're family."

Tywin grunted at that thought, and Sansa saw that the exchanged had tired him. "That is all for now, Arya."

Arya rose and went to leave the room, turning back to see Sansa lay a comforting hand on the Great Lion's shoulder. The man accepted her sister's gentle touch, stunning the younger Stark sister. How was it these lions turned into tamed house cats around Sansa?

She coughed, and both of them looked to her. "I might not know as much about politics as the two of you, but I want to learn."

Arya saw the brief flare of approval in Tywin's eyes as if he'd been waiting for her to understand she was more than just a weapon; more than just a woman who could defend herself and her sister. That she had value outside of her quick hands, she had a sharp mind as well.

Sansa nodded. "Starting next week, Lord Tywin and I will meet with our advisors Monday morning in the map room. Be there, sister."

Then Arya was gone, and Sansa and Tywin were once again alone.

"She's a violent little thing," the Great Lion muttered, but Sansa heard the grudging respect for her sister in the Old Lion's voice.

Tywin did indeed break his fast with his family the next morning. It was slow and painful, but he insisted on walking himself to the Great Hall, where the others waited, Sansa by his side.

Of course, as always, Sandor was there, and Tywin glowered at him.

"He's loyal, Tywin," she muttered into his ear, and the Great Lion let it go. For now.

Breakfast was a stilted, awkward affair that continued that way until Tommen arrived with Ser Pounce, to which Genna objected, and Arya helped him smuggle the cat out of the dining hall.

It reminded Sansa so much of something Bran or Arya would have done that she laughed until her entire body quaked with it, and everyone was looking at her.

"It doesn't matter, boys will be boys," she said, and everyone agreed at that.

Then Tywin, haltingly, shared stories of Jaime as a child and the antics he got up to in the Rock, and breakfast became one of Sansa's favourite parts of the day.

Lions and wolves, living and plotting and working together. Her father would be appalled, and her mother was. But somehow, these people had become Sansa's family.

Of course, now that Tywin had emerged from his chambers, Genna and Dorna fussed over him. Sansa came into the library one afternoon to catch him snarling at them. He had taken to spending his days hereafter he broke his fast, and Sansa often caught him napping.

"I don't need to be fussed over. A bunch of hens, pecking at me, the lot of you." He sent both women from the room with a scowl on his face.

When he saw Sansa, his eyes lit; she always seemed to have some correspondence from the capital for him.

His recovery had been nothing short of a miracle, with the scars now starting to fade and his thin form regaining some of its muscle and bulk. Sansa had seen how much he was loved here. Where others in the Kingdom feared him, to those in the West, he was their greatest protector, and everyone had gone out of their way to help him recover as fast as possible.

The next two months passed in much the same manner, with Sansa and Tywin working tirelessly to shore up their position, teaching both Tommen and Arya about ruling, politics and alliances. Sansa wanted to ensure that they understood more than just sparring, although both of them loved to do that with Dacey and Sandor.

Still, there was an incredible amount to learn, and ravens arrived almost every other day from all parts of the Kingdom.

Jaime had been named King of the seven kingdoms and protector of the realm. For now, Lord Royce served as his hand, while Kevan was Master of Coin, Baelor Hightower Master of Ships, Addam Marbrand commander of the City Watch and the Blackfish Master of Laws. Varys remained Master of Whispers and controlled the most significant spy network in the capital. None of Petyr Baelish's brothels had reopened, and Jaime had immediately begun work to rebuild the Crown's depleted navy.

The trial of the Tyrell's, Olenna, Mace and Margaery was swift and to the point. They were all found guilty of treason and sentenced to die. There was no one left alive to fight in a trial by combat, and with Jaime at his peak, it would have been a moot point. Their heads were taken, publicly and put on spikes, but it had all been perfunctory and not gleeful. Sansa did not regret missing any of it.

Gregor Clegane was found and sent to Dorne, which finally secured Myrcella's freedom, and she was on her way back to Casterly Rock.

Word came from Robb that they had taken the Dreadfort and that the traitor Ramsay Snow was dead. Also found, barely alive, was Theon Greyjoy. If Tywin's torture had been bad, Theon's was horrific. Knowing that Theon had not killed Bran and Rickon, Robb had stayed his hand and brought the broken man back to Winterfell to heal. Also there- Rickon and Shaggydog, delivered by the Umbers themselves. There was no word on Bran, although Sansa knew he was where he needed to be, somewhere North of the Wall.

The raven from Jaime, in Sansa's seventh month of pregnancy, brought news of another sort. Tyrion had finally succumbed to his fever, having hung on for almost two months since the night of Tywin's escape. The Great Lion had stormed from the room, and everyone gave him space.

For once, it was Genna that said it best. "Theirs was a tumultuous relationship from the beginning. But make no mistake, Tyrion was a Lannister, and Tywin will grieve for him in his way."

Sansa worried for her husband. He was alone now, the only child left of Tywin and Joanna Lannister. Sansa knew how much he had loved his siblings, and this blow might be the cruellest yet. His ravens had turned rambling and long-winded as if he couldn't bear to stop writing her.

There was a small funeral held for both him and Cersei, who was buried in the family crypts.

By the time Sansa entered the eighth month of her pregnancy, she was a cranky, miserable mess. She missed Jaime; he'd been gone for four long months. Her only comfort was that she knew he was just as miserable without her.

She was attempting to get comfortable on a divan in her bedchambers when Arya burst in and rushed over.

"He's on his way, sweet sister."

Sansa barely dared to hope. Every time Jaime had tried to leave King's Landing, another 'urgent' matter had required his attention as Westeros's new King. Sansa was half afraid he wouldn't make it home for the birth of their children.

"Do not jape with me sister," Sansa growled, her emotions unable to handle it.

"I'm not. Tywin wrote him a raven, telling him to get his arse back to the Rock." She winked. "I read it. He said, arse! To the King."

Sansa burst out into tears, clutching at her sister. Genna and Dorna had been fantastic, telling her about childbirth and rearing, saying they would be by her side. She was close with Creylon, and there was a lovely midwife from nearby Lannisport that Sansa had bonded with.

But more than anyone, she wanted Jaime.

Sansa was enormous now, rounded in a way that defied the odds with the two babies, and she anxiously awaited her husband's return.

"Pacing won't get him here any faster," Tywin said in an amused voice as he watched her waddle around the great room that they shared in the family chambers.

She had been having twinges of pain, on and off for a few days, but anyone who dared mention that she might be in labour was treated to a blistering glare.

Sansa was NOT having her babies without her husband by her side. They could damn well stay put until Jaime was back.

"It's been fifteen days; normally it takes only fourteen," she muttered and glared at him.

"I am sure he is doing his level best to get here…" Tywin started to say just as the door opened.

Sansa gasped and almost toppled over, seeing Jaime standing there. He was covered in mud from the ride, clearly having ridden hard to make it back to her. His hair was longer, and he was sporting a beard, and there was a weariness about his eyes as if the past four months had taken an enormous toll on him.

But he was still the best thing she had ever seen.

"Jaime," she cried, and he was there in a second, drawing her into his strong arms, cradling her face in his hands as he gazed upon her.

"My love, my love, Sansa, my Queen, my lion," he kept saying over and over again.

Then his lips were on hers, and she dug her hands into his neck to keep him here, keep him with her. She would not be parted from him again. She didn't care that he was King or Lord of whatever. He was her husband, and his place was by her side. Sansa would have Sandor run anyone through who tried to keep them apart.

When Jaime finally pulled his lips from her, he had a massive grin on his face.

"You're huge," he quirked, grinning, cupping her massive belly where his children waited to be born.

Sansa smacked him on the chest. "I'm in labour, Jaime, for two days now. It's is about time you arrived."

Jaime's eyes went wide as he looked her over, and then a huge grin spread on his face. He had made it on time!

And then, as if her body had been waiting for this moment, a gushing of water covered her legs and Jaime's boots. He looked startled while Sansa moaned.

"Oh gods, Jaime, it's begun."

Tywin stood and hurried to call for the midwife and Creylon, and shot his son a look, full of pride and wonder.

"It is time, Jaime, to welcome the next lions of House Lannister into this world."

Jaime cradled Sansa to him, promising he'd be with her every step of the way. His children were about to be born, and Jaime Lannister, King of the seven kingdoms, could not wait to meet them.

Sansa clutched at him, worry and fear in his eyes.

"Do not leave me," she begged, and Jaime shook his head.

"I will be by your side every moment, my love. I will never leave you again. For all our days, Sansa."

"For all our days, Jaime."


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lannister babies

Jaime could hardly believe he was home, and his wife was in his arms after being apart for her for so long. He had dreamed about her each night, wept when he’d needed her, and sent more ravens than ever in his life. And now, he was here, at the Rock with Sansa who was very pregnant, and who looked ready to birth their children any moment now.

The most incredible part was she was still his Sansa, his love, whom he'd missed more than he could explain, even to her. She was his entire world, and now, she was groaning in pain as they were hurried down the hallway and into the bathing chambers at the Rock.

"You need to get clean," Maester Creylon said, giving Jaime a look. The man was not impressed. "Lady Sansa wants you with her for the birth."

Jaime startled at that thought. Of course, he wanted to be with her, in the room, holding her hand, doing whatever was required, whatever might be helpful, but he wasn’t sure that he'd be welcome. Of course, he should have expected that Sansa would want him by her side.

Nodding, Jaime grimaced as a labour pain stopped Sansa in her tracks, and she squeezed his arm. “Jaime,” she moaned and he pulled her closer, even though he was filthy.

“Come, love, let’s get you to the baths,” Jaime said, wondering why Sansa needed to be there if it was him that needed to be clean.

When they entered, he was ordered to strip by an elderly lady said, her tone bossy and no-nonsense. Didn’t she realize who he was?

“Who the fuck are you?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “I am the local midwife that your wife has bonded with. I’m here to help with the birth. Strip and get clean and then join your wife as she labours in the warm bath that we've set up for her."

“In a bath?” Jaime had never heard of such a thing. As far as he knew, women gave birth on beds and it was a messy affair. Jaime had only been afforded the luxury of being present for one of his children’s birth and only as the Queen’s brother and loyal Kingsguard; not as a husband.

When Jaime still didn't move, Sansa shot him a pleading look. "Please, Jaime. I've discussed this at length with both Maester Creylon and the midwife. Many women labour in warm water; it helps with the pain and can make the entire process easier."

Jaime’s eyes softened when Sansa spoke and he listened to what she was saying. If this is what she wanted, then he would do it.

"Of course my love," he said, scrambling to comply — anything to make things easier for Sansa.

He let his dirty clothing drop, and unashamed of being naked, strolled across the room to sink into the warm water of one of the smaller bathing pools. It felt like heaven after two weeks on the back of a horse, and while he normally might have lingered, today he washed quickly, scrubbing hard to rid himself of the grime of a hard ride from the Capital. When word had come that Sansa's time to birth their children grew nearer, he'd abandoned all tasks to ride back to her. He'd been chased up the Gold Road by fears he would be too late.

He thanked the gods he wasn't. There was nothing in his life to compare to this moment; when he and Sansa together would welcome their children that would bear his name into the world.

The past few months had been pure hell on Jaime. He didn't care about the Iron Throne, not in the way his sister or even his father did. He had missed his wife, he’d mourned the deaths of Cersei and Tyrion, and he'd tried to concentrate on the tasks in front of him, while all the time, wanting to be here. The only thing that had kept Jaime in the Capital, was the knowledge of what was coming for them and needing to be prepared. Stannis, the White Walkers and Dany. Three threats that all needed to be handled if Jaime’s family were to be safe.

Tommen. Cella. His Aunts. His father. Sansa. And now these two new children. Everything in Jaime’s life was about ensuring that they lived; that’s what mattered to him now, and why Jaime had stayed and worked his arse off in the Capital to ensure adequate provisions were put in place.

While Jaime bathed, Sansa was stripped down to only a tunic, his, laid on a divan. There she was examined by the midwife and Maester, who said she had 'a way to go.'

"You're still not fully open, my dear," the kindly old woman said, patting her belly. "Into the water with you." Jaime couldn’t help but take in his wife’s form as she moved awkwardly towards the bath. She waddled! It was adorable! Jaime could hardly believe how large she had become with their children, shaking his head that the time had come for their births.

When his water turned brown, Jaime rose and strode across the stone floor to sink into the bathing pool where Sansa lay, a blissed-out look on her face. The water in this pool was warmer than the one he'd just come from, and he smiled at the picture she made. She was naked, and they were alone except for the midwife who was puttering around in a far off corner, and as Jaime joined his wife, her blue eyes popped open.

"Hello husband," she purred, and Jaime threw his head back and laughed. Sansa’s smiled was everything.

"Gods, I've missed you, wife."

Then he was fully submerged in the bath and pulled Sansa into his arms, his entire world righting itself. Nothing felt as good as having her near him and being able to touch her.

"So this is how they bring babies into the world in the North, is it?" he said, evident amusement in his voice.

Sansa turned, the water making her agile in a way she had not been for months.

"It's soothing and helps with the cramps and pains," she explained.

Sansa had voraciously read everything she could on childbirth, sending raven after raven to Oldtown on the latest practices and most successful outcomes. Some Maesters even advocated for a water birth, but Sansa was too nervous to try that. Still, when she'd mentioned water labour, the midwife had been encouraging and confessed that she'd heard of it being done with a high degree of success.

Jaime leaned down and kissed her gently, brushing his lips across hers and re-familiarizing himself with her taste, her scent, her touch.

"I've missed you, Sansa."

The tears tracked down her face. "I've missed you, Jaime."

"Never again. I am not sitting my arse on that throne without you by my side."

Sansa reached out and pinched his arse, and she smirked. "I agree, never again, Jaime. These past few months have been so difficult without you." 

Sansa’s face grimaced in pain and she reached for his hand and squeezed, panting through another contraction.

He titled his head, in awe of her. "It is truly better to be in the water?" he asked when she was done and her face returned to normal. Jaime hated seeing her in pain; even knowing this was necessary for birth.

"I think so. It dulls it; takes the worst of the edge off. Plus, I can float."

She grinned at this and Jaime smiled indulgently at her, brushing his hand through her hair, watching as the red fanned out in the warm water.

"I confess, I have spent an indecent amount of time in these pools since you've been gone. I am sure I am the cleanest woman in Westeros."

Jaime had loved these bathing chambers in the Rock as well; there wasn’t anything quite like them in all of Westeros.

"So, you settled in?" Jaime asked, leaning back and cradling Sansa in his arms, laying his hand and on her stomach that looked too large to contain two babies.

"I love it here, Jaime. I wished you were here with me, but Tommen had been a wonderful guide. He's come quite far in his studies, and he trains daily with Arya. Myrcella has not yet arrived but is expected anyway."

"And my father? He hasn't been too much trouble?"

Sansa snorted and tilted her head up to look at her husband.

"He's a stubborn man, Jaime." Sansa sighed. "He was so broken when he arrived, both spirit and body."

“Thank you for welcoming him home.”

“Always.”

Jaime grunted, not wanting to talk about what happened in King's Landing; not tonight when his children, children who would bear his name, would be born.

"We'll talk, my love, about everything until you are sick of my voice. But tonight is for them and us," Jaime said, resting his hands on her extended stomach again. This was a new chapter in his life, and Jaime had thought endlessly about integrating Myrcella and Tommen into their lives.

"I didn't think you'd make it in time, Jaime," Sansa sniffed, and Jaime pulled her closer.

"Always. I will always be where you are, when you need me most, my love." Sansa brushed her lips across his, and Jaime sunk into the moment. This place was as familiar to him as his own room, and he could hardly believe the event that was upon them.

Jaime could tell when the next pain came upon her, as Sansa panted and groaned. He helped her through that one, and every one afterwards, until an hour later, the midwife ordered her from the bathing pool to examine her once more.

Jaime rose, comfortable in his nakedness, his body firm and well-muscled. He had trained daily when he’d been away; it was the only thing that saved his sanity when faced with the governance of the realm. His father had wanted the throne, and Tywin Lannister damn well better get his arse down to King's Landing to be the Hand again.

Jaime knew he could do a perfectly adequate job as King. Since coming back in time with Sansa he had proven to himself more than anyone that he was more than just a blunt instrument and in some of his more reflective periods, Jaime was proud of how he’d conducted himself.

But it was never going to be something he was either comfortable with or something that he sought. Jaime would much rather leave the day to day governance of the Seven Kingdoms to Sansa and Tywin.

Jaime helped Sansa to the divan, where she lay, panting and clutching at him, as the midwife gently spread Sansa’s legs and peered between them. Jaime pressed a kiss to Sansa’s forehead, murmuring nonsensical things to her. He coaxed a tired smile out of her and figured it was the very least he could do. This woman he loved was in pain, to bring his children into this world.

“You are amazing,” Jaime said again, feeling like those words were on repeat.

"Your time is close, my dear. Let's get you dry and to your chambers for the birth."

Jaime wondered who this woman was that she did not address Sansa by her proper title, but seeing that Sansa didn’t seem to mind, Jaime let it go; for now.

Someone had brought Jaime clothes, old soft breeches and a tunic, and he slipped them on, helping Sansa into her robe, which, when he looked closer, was one of his.

“I’ve been wearing it for months,” Sansa told him, making Jaime grin. Then Jaime slipped a strong arm around her and guided them back to their chambers.

"I wanted to hear the waves, Jaime," Sansa said by way of explanation for where she would give birth. It seemed that Jaime’s wife had taken to the Rock as he’d hoped she would.

Jaime thanked the seven gods that a secondary bed had been brought into the room for her to birth on. Birthing was a messy business.

Waiting just outside their chambers was Tywin himself, who pressed a gentle kiss to Sansa's forehead.

"You will be brilliant, my dear," he told her, and Jaime stood there stunned. It was as if his father liked Sansa. Jaime looked closer. No, it was as if Tywin loved her - like a daughter.

“Thank you,” she told him, softly and Jaime knew that they must be close. Since Tywin’s beloved wife had died giving birth to Tyrion, Jaime knew that his father had a deep-seated fear of losing someone else he cared for that way.

Sansa waddled into their room, where Genna, Dorna and Arya waited for her while Jaime stood just outside with his father. Jaime watched as Sansa was fussed over by the women, clearly loved by all.

"She is a remarkable woman, Jaime."

It was high praise from the Old Lion, and Jaime loved that they were close. Jaime had known that Sansa would take care of Tywin, and it seemed he'd allowed it. It had been too long since Tywin had allowed anyone to be close with him.

"You love her," Jaime stated, voice incredulous.

Tywin grunted. "Go and be with your wife, Jaime. Your children are almost here."

That was such a loaded statement. He already had a child here; a living child.

Jaime felt a pang for Tommen. He didn't know that he wasn't the orphan he believed himself to be, and while Jaime, now King, could claim him, it would be problematic. He hoped that Tommen would accept him as a caring Uncle, and Sansa as his Aunt. Perhaps they would become his surrogate parents' now that both his official ones were dead. It made Jaime ache that he couldn't claim Tommen as his own, but that was his burden to bear, not his son's.

Jaime wouldn't taint anyone with the status of a bastard born of incest.

When Jaime finally made it inside, Sansa was on the secondary bed in their chambers, surrounded by the women in his family and hers. Her eyes met his, and she bore down through the pain of another contraction. They were increasing in frequency and duration.

"Jaime," she pleaded when she could breathe again, and he hurried to her side.

"Where do you want me?" he asked, giving her his left hand.

"Behind me," she panted, and Jaime scrambled to comply.

This wasn’t an entirely experience was new for him, thinking of how he’d been there when Joffrey had been born. Thinking of his twin, there was an ache in his chest, but it was quickly absorbed by how much he loved Sansa and what they were about to experience. Jaime had mourned Cersei and her death while he’d been away in King’s Landing. 

Here, now, he was fully devoted to Sansa.

Jaime cradled her against his body, her back on his chest as she panted and groaned through each pain. His left hand might never work correctly again, but Jaime didn't mind as he coached her, murmuring soothing words into her ear.

She battled for hours, labouring to bring their children into this world, drenching them both in sweat and tears, bonding them in a way that few other experiences could. The world had faded to just them and, on occasion, the midwife and Maester.

After the first hour, Sansa had sent the others from the room, needing this to be between them and the few trusted servants that Sansa had become close with.

When Creylon announced he could see the head of the first child, Jaime praised her.

“You are so close, my love,” he told her.

“Another push, My Lady.”

Sansa screamed as she bored down to push the head out. She panted and collapsed back into his arms, tears flowing freely down her face.

“Jaime, I can’t… I can’t…. it hurts, so much.”

"So strong, my love. Sansa, you're amazing," Jaime said to her, wishing he could take some of this pain from her, that he could do more than just whispered words in her ear.

Jaime was in awe of his wife, and her strength.

“One more, my dear and then you’ll meet this babe of yours,” the midwife said and Sansa bore down with another huge scream, squeezing Jaime’s hand past the point of pain, and pushed their child into the world.

Creylon was there to catch the babe, and worked the newborn until their hearty wail filled the room.

“Jaime, oh my god,” Sansa said, unable to tear her eyes away from the squalling baby that was demonstrating a healthy set of lungs.

Creylon proudly announced, "A boy, Your Graces."

Jaime was stunned. He had a son. A legitimate son, who would have his name and inherit the Seven Kingdoms. This was the next heir to the Iron Throne.

The baby let out another healthy wail and was whisked away to be cleaned.

Jaime met Sansa's eyes as the tears coursed down her cheeks. "A boy, Jaime! Oh, he’s here!”

He kissed her then, uncaring if it was proper or not. His child was born and was healthy, and Sansa was halfway through this ordeal. Within moments their son was back and placed on Sansa's bare chest. For now, it seemed her labour pains had lessoned, and her joy at seeing her son outweighed any pain she was feeling.

Sansa cried harder when his tiny body was finally in his hands, reverently stroking his cheek. He had blond hair and a scrunched up expression on his little face.

"Jaime, he's perfect," Sansa whispered, so in awe of him.

Jaime's hand cupped his bottom, just as another contraction wracked Sansa's body.

"Let me, Your Grace," one of Sansa's handmaidens said, taking their firstborn, while they worked together to bring the second lion into the world. As before, with three strong pushes, another cry soon filled the room.

"A second son, Your Grace," Creylon announced, his voice filled with astonishment.

Jaime was equally stunned. Somehow he had expected at least one child would be a girl. Somehow, Sansa had given House Lannister all the stability it need, birthing both the next King of the Seven Kingdoms and the next lord of Casterly Rock.

Their firstborn was handed back to Sansa, and the midwife and Maester worked to have Sansa pass the afterbirth and clean her. Others were taking care of their second son.

When their son latched onto Sansa's full breast, a look of wonderment came over her face, and she sought Jaime's eyes.

He was crying and had no wish to stop the joy he felt at seeing her thusly rendering him almost speechless. 

"Sansa, gods, I can't even," Jaime said, stroking a hand over his son's downy head as he suckled greedily at Sansa's breast.

"He's amazing, Jaime."

Jaime knew there would never be another moment that compared to this. Sansa was safe, his children were alive, and they were ensconced in the walls of Casterly Rock. A discreet cough and Jaime was handed his second son, identical to the first.

Jaime held the tiny baby in his arms, as Sansa checked him over as well.

"Help me," she said to her husband, who positioned the second baby until he was latched as well. Jaime and Sansa watched in astonishment as they suckled in tandem, and reached for one another, holding hands.

"Oh my, they are so precious," Sansa said, her eyes filled with so much love. "Thank you for them, Jaime."

Jaime just shook his head. He'd done hardly anything; this was all her. These two new lions were all because of Sansa. Jaime stroked his hand softly over both of them, wondering how something so small could survive such a harsh world. He vowed to make this world as safe as possible for them.

As with all new parents, they spent the first-hour bonding with the two princes, before Sansa finally brought up their names.

Jaime hadn't even considered it. He'd never been consulted when Cersei had picked them for his other children. And really, thinking about it now, how had Robert not suspected something when all three ended up with names from the Westerlands? Joffrey should have been the man’s first clue.

"I thought your heir should be named Jaison," Sansa proposed, almost shyly.

"Jason," Jaime said, rolling the name about and saying it out loud. "I like it."

"But spelled J-A-I-S-O-N," Sansa continued and watched as Jaime startled. "He's your son, my love. I want everyone to know it."

"Sansa, I can't even…." Jaime was choked on the wave of emotion swamping him. He coughed slightly and looked down at his firstborn. "Jaison Lannister. Tis a fine name, Sansa."

She beamed, and Jaime brushed his lips across hers. This woman was everything to him.

"Any your other son, My Queen," Jaime asked a twinkle in his eye.

"Lorion, after both the first king of the Rock and your brother," Sansa proposed.

Clearly, she had put considerable thought into this and Jaime sobbed out his agreement.

"Jaison and Lorion Lannister. Future heirs to the Seven Kingdoms and Casterly Rock," Jaime announced to the small, sleepy babies.

The midwife was back, along with the nurses Sansa had arranged for. They moved the two princes to their bassinets, and then got Sansa up to make water, and finished cleaning her. When she was washed, and in clean nightclothes, Jaime brought her back to their bed, where she slumped back against the pillows. Jaime was sitting in between the bed and the bassinets, looking at his sons with such wonder and fascination.

He raised his head and met Sansa's sleepy gaze. "I'll watch over them, my love. Get some sleep."

"Don't let anyone in just yet, Jaime. They will belong to the realm soon enough, but for now, they are just ours."

Jaime leaned over and pressed a kiss to her head. "I'll inform our family of their names and then I will be right back. Visitors can wait." Jaime would run anyone through who upset Sansa; his wife had battled hard to bring their sons into the world, and Jaime would respect her edicts. Their family could wait to meet the princes.

Sansa nodded but was already drifting off to sleep. Jaime took one last look at the two tiny babies and then went into the Great Room that was shared by the family.

Everyone was there.

Tywin with Tommen and Myrcella, who must have arrived in the chaos of the past few hours. Jaime realized that he’d been with Sansa for over a day.

Genna and Dorna.

Arya, Sandor and Dacey.

The moment Jaime entered, Tywin surged to his feet. For the first time, Jaime was able to take in his father's appearance now that Sansa was safe. The torture at the hands of Joffrey had changed him, no doubt. He looked older and slightly weaker. But overall, his recovery had been remarkable.

"Well?"

"Sansa is fine; she is resting." Jaime held up a hand to stop their questions. "There will be no visitors for now."

For as much as Tywin Lannister wanted to schedule his legacy, Jaime saw his father slump in relief that Sansa had made it through the birth of her children.

"And? What did she have?" Arya asked impatiently.

Tywin glared at her.

She stuck her tongue out at him.

He rolled his eyes back at her.

Jaime felt like he was in an alternative universe, shaking his head at their antics.

"The Queen has given birth to identical twin boys," Jaime announced as their family let out a loud cheer. He was swept up in their jubilation, and the pride in his father's eyes almost brought Jaime to his knees.

"Well done, son," Tywin said, cupping Jaime's face in his hands. "Well done."

Jaime had done nothing, he knew. It was all Sansa. But it was the way of the world in which they lived. Men often received praise when in truth, the women deserved it most.

“It was all Sansa, father.”

Still, Tywin had tears in his eyes, and he sat down, a bit unsteadily, overcome with two new lions in the family.

"Their names, Uncle Jaime?" Tommen asked excitedly. "Aunt Sansa and I spent hours looking over Lannister history, searching for the perfect ones."

Jaime's heart ached that his son, his other son, was a Baratheon. He would never be a Lannister, never a lion. But he was apparently close to Sansa and Jaime was once again in awe of his wife and her capacity to love.

"Jaison," Jaime told them and spelled it for his family, watching as Tywin gave an approving nod. "And Lorion. For Tyrion." Tywin only gave a single nod and knew that Jaime would not be swayed.

"Well done, Jaime," Genna cried loudly.

Seeing her opportunity, Myrcella approached him. She had matured so much in her time away, and now at eighteen, was the same age as Arya. She smiled softly at Jaime, and he once again felt his heart clutch at how he could not claim her.

"Cella, welcome home."

She threw herself into Jaime's arms and sobbed, thanking him for getting her out of Dorne.

When she calmed down, she whispered into his ear, "I know you are my father. I won't say a word, but I know. And I'm so glad it is you. I am so happy for you and Sansa, and I can't wait to meet the princes."

Jaime felt the tears in his eyes as he cupped her cheek and hugged her harder. “We need to be there for Tommen,” Jaime told her and Cella nodded.

“We will be.”

Jaime would never deserve Tommen and Myrcella. He'd done them a grave disservice, with the circumstances of their births. And he could only hope that he could keep them safe, keep them loved, keep them alive as a way to make up for it. He thanked the seven gods that he and Sansa had been able to save them in this timeline.

It was at that moment that it hit Jaime.

Cersei and Tyrion for Myrcella and Tommen. A life for a life. Even if he could never prove it, he was sure that it was true.

"I'm so happy you are here," Jaime told Myrcella, before gently extricating himself.

"I'm happy to be here as well," Cella said and then turned to Tommen to ask him about his cat. Jaime knew that Cella would take Tommen under her wing.

Jaime slipped out and back into the room with Sansa, just as his sons stirred and she woke. Drawn by that ancient bond between mother and child, Jaime helped the two newborns suckle at their mother again. His wife seemed to take particular delight in this, and when Jaime suggested a wet nurse, she looked positively scandalized.

"Jaime, they are my sons. I will feed them. My body was built for this," Sansa told him passionately.

Jaime remembered a conversation they'd had long ago, in Winterfell, when she'd first shown him the damage that Ramsay had done to her. She had been so grateful that he had left her breasts alone, and Jaime wisely nodded.

"But if it gets to be too much, Sansa, you'll let someone help. One babe is a lot, while two might just be too demanding, even for a Queen."

Sansa nodded distractedly too busy with the babies.

Jaime settled himself against her, cradling her in his arms as they bonded as a new family.

"Tell me about your time away, my love," Sansa said, her face open, warm, trusting.

He had missed her so fucking much.

"I don't care about what is to come, Sansa. I will never spend that amount of time away from you again."

Her eyes filled with tears as she nodded. "I agree. I missed you, Jaime, so very, very much."

"And I missed you."

"I love you, husband."

"And I love you, wife."

Haltingly, as the princes napped and ate, Jaime told Sansa about taking Highgarden, his deal with Baelor and then receiving the raven about the capture of his family.

When he saw her tire, he called for the nursemaids and tucked himself in beside her to sleep. He knew these next few days would be draining on her, and she needed her rest. He planned on being by her side through it all.

Now, as he watched his wife drift off, Jaime pressed a kiss to her forehead and thanked all the gods that he'd made it back in time for this. Some lions were missing, important ones and Jaime felt the loss of Cersei and Tyrion acutely. But his children, his four children, were here, in his family home, safe and protected. His father was healed, his wife was in his arms, and the Seven Kingdoms, for now, were safe.


End file.
